Sep 14
J. Scott's picture

Girl on the Scrim

My anger is too
slithering
to write out
right now.
It’s ill-defined,
with blurred edges,
just vague shapes
against a light
in the distance.
Perhaps at the root
there is some clear
understandable
mass,
but I am too far away,
too blurred, indistinct,
the light too indelicate
and the fabric wrinkles,
pulled taught
with staples and screws,
like some monster
long dead
yet still here