The sunbeam is first redder than crash,
Then a yellow, loud and dumb.
And if there is a nose it is soft-shaped
In the business of still-young foes:
The skin dangles from your hand,
Leading comedian, o kingpin with a punchline,
Who finds the fruit is laughable (as we do) and creates
All the to-do, then slips on the lit step up?
Delight is near you, a limp epaulette.
A chunk gleams in your hand: the edible guts of geodes!
A dollop of wet polar bear fur, a fur beneath
The skin! Reversible, like a curse, a logos,
Children’s children,
Pounding bright on the sleeve.
from Great Guns Find more by Farnoosh Fathi at the library
Copyright © 2013 Farnoosh Fathi
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.