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Writing Exercise #43


The Man with No Mouth
made of staring into the sun
of phosphene burn the back of your eyelids
and he moves, mincing
like a puppet, pantomime,blood colored
he is skinless, tailor-fingered
in a high coat and drainpipe trousers

everyone has laughed and laughed
until they are transparent as aquarium fish
and the laughter rolls around inside them
shaking and shaking on the ground
the man walks, each to each
high stepping as a clown on stilts
leans his terrible face in, spider quick fingers
darting around them and he breathes and breathes
their breath until it is gone

there is nothing he can say.
there are no answers here, in his grinning, mouthless predation
he is an ambulatory scar, a frozen smile, an endless hunger