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

 
J. Scott's picture
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