Collective Unrest

 

holes in the curtain 1 & 2

September 13, 2018

holes in the curtain

 

nothing knows how to begin,

without a voice.

 

a face like a gash

in the windshield of the universe.

 

rotating, rotating.

we think we inhabit a sphere,

 

something perfect,

something close to perfect,

 

but this crust

obviates an egg

 

with not enough warmth

to hatch anything but sideways

 

toward an oven.

label it escape hatch.

 

pretend we do

nothing but.

 

holes in the curtain (2)

 

a different stripe.

same zebra.

 

then it becomes erratic,

or something awfully close,

 

like the wrong-colored chinos

in pasture-land light.

 

you just know, intuiting

a choice, a supply line

 

of blood & laughter

& less is not more

 

Michael Prihoda lives in central Indiana. He is the editor of After the Pause, an experimental literary magazine and small press. His work has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net Anthology and he is the author of eight poetry collections, most recently Years Without Room (Weasel Press, 2018).

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