Horizon

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Vandal Poem of the Day: November 10, 2017

by Randall Mann

Joyless,

devotedly boyless.

Everything,

the way

nothing is.

The point is this:

make

me less

than the lake

in the sheets.

The horizon

just above sex:

my thoughts

and prayers—

spots

and short hairs.

My itch;

my side-stitch.

Every day

can’t

be lament.

An excuse

to lose

my shirt

for charity.

I feel,

if not real,

neon-real.

Sterile as hurt,

or parity.

from ProprietaryFind it in the library

Published in Poems Randall Mann

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