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More Cheesy Poetry, This Time by Me
Aug. 9th, 2005 11:32 amTidal Forces
The cracked old mask you've placed over yourself
is like a cake the moon has gnawed upon;
and I, a nervous, coffee-drinking werewolf,
some tarnished diner counting down to dawn.
From black and cooling liquid, spirals up
a miniature twister-cone of steam;
Its mirror-image, curled inside the cup
a yin-yang symbol drawn in fractal cream.
Turn and pace; and turn and pace again;
my fingers itch with steely nibs beneath,
as sheets of paper, white as rabid teeth,
tempt me to fix you with a fountain pen.
The coffee shakes; I cradle each refill
as gingerly as if it were a skull.
The cracked old mask you've placed over yourself
is like a cake the moon has gnawed upon;
and I, a nervous, coffee-drinking werewolf,
some tarnished diner counting down to dawn.
From black and cooling liquid, spirals up
a miniature twister-cone of steam;
Its mirror-image, curled inside the cup
a yin-yang symbol drawn in fractal cream.
Turn and pace; and turn and pace again;
my fingers itch with steely nibs beneath,
as sheets of paper, white as rabid teeth,
tempt me to fix you with a fountain pen.
The coffee shakes; I cradle each refill
as gingerly as if it were a skull.
