PATHOLOGY

© 1997, 1999 Clinton Cyril Somerton

. . . emerged
I was       there
erected by the wooden sideboard
a stage prop
dressed up and glinting at
the hour of your coming

to play the scene
and prance in careful intoxication
among effete alcoholics
tired and heavy like a
head drooping through a swirl of bar light
my mouth swept up in a smile
drooling slow noise with the rest
of the yapping mob

it's over when I say
those things that make me what I am,
you who are too full of other things
to remember

dim vanity
locked in a shrinking room
the mirror misinterprets
the music of your movement
rejects those coloured blotches
that scorn my eyes

I laugh at your tragedy
greatness
in memory of nothing
and providence-reviled
a deluge of screaming terrors
waiting for the gavel
to fall . . .

*****