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  1. David W. Parsley

    Monologue in Black and Red

    Do not stand thereAs if you would paste an eye on the face of the moon. Draw the blind And let me divide this fixed mirrorFrom the tranquil face inlaid in the grim glass.Bas-relief the shadow panelsThat shift on the wall. Then watch. Watch. A spotOn that wall Forms in a smeared faceAnd runs like a wound – clots, then bleeds againWhile I wink at my blind cyclops.And the cyclops’ face is a grin of quaint agony tonightAs a strong jaw presses against his chin,Bowing him from behind and bending the dull glassTo fit my purple retina.I almost laugh.But tonight the moon is eyelessAnd the shadow panels are ready to shift on the wall.So watch. Chisel at the firm mouth.Witness the lipsCurl back from wet fangsAnd see the hair-backed hands drop into paws While I must study through the fixed cornerThat shows your face on the blank tileEdging toward the doorImagining you see a silhouette Stencilled on the yellow shade.Forget the clumsiness of hoovesand laugh. You know I hate new moons. first published in Prize Poems of the National Federation of State Poetry Societies, 1977 winner NFSPS Modern Award © 2011 David W. Parsley Parsley Poetry Collection
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