Self Portrait
A metronome oscillating
politely , reassuringly wilco,
savagely placid, historically yours,
Is a good pet
and if It lulls with forgetfulness,
It can be fed a net of impurities to chaste
It’s hinds, snapping red
like broken Does from icy jaws,
should It struggle with It’s passport.
Should It not take to this, then neglect -
Cloak with social poisoning
And pretend it doesn’t exist; it’s hurt
Is a bunion in your shoe, and your comfort is all that is needed.
It is selfish to want to walk Itself.
And of course, you of all, can define,
because It can’t possibly be a self,
You are the Great Shelf
to hang others, and we can all go fuck ourselves.
