An Asterisk Between Two Acts

Nannies are grouchy with their corpulent asses.
Opulent spells of eggs iced-over and a wine
goiter like a saggy crepe-de-chine. To say I am
an heir-istotle, acting for a dowager’s veil.
That stage where its curtain is drawn with a black,
a puse, & a drier magenta, is a chance for ex-
ceptions to the rules (Hamlet licks Hamlet
licks Hamlet licks Hamlet licks Ophelia licks
her Laertes, a.k.a. an orgy of impossible actions
made possible by theater’s rank impossibility).
A such the peach in a sky or its own graphites
Abstractly interpreted as a waiting of sorts. As in
the party formations, they form like a jellied
pie-tin until i.e. they collapse – fungible peoples
wanting and wanting still more (I deserve and
I need what’s mine is yours). That, they’ve said,
is the struggle between our blacker necessities,
be patient, we’ll be getting to that soon enough.