poem to the mask...

To My Pity I Owe Decadence
for the John Sakkis mask

her, the paler skin of his body
her, from tower to deep cellar
Lessa sat rebelliously down on the fur-covered wall seat
the tray on the low table in front of her
she would not waste future opportunities
she was the yellow of tempting winter fruit
'we're going to compose a poem!'
the moment the idea becomes indigenous
we are meat, bread, a pitcher of KLAH
we are imagined, a fragile rebellion in the deep throat

by Anatra di Battimento
translated by Michael Koshkin

ps. the "John Sakkis" mask was going to be worn by an unnamed poet at graduation as he streaked the stage...fortunately for my parents that idea was scrapped...

...currently listening to The Ramones Loud, Fast Ramones...