Grasshopper

Author’s Note: This poem was originally written on the 27th of March, 2023 and eventually published by Roi Faineant on the 4th of February, 2024.

* * *

* * *

Within the cocktail of sound,
The only thing I hear is a car tyre grinding my bones into a fine powder.
To be exhaled by rigid accountants, while my spirit flounders like a shy oracle.

They won’t grant me an allowance,
But scold me when I ask to wear their skin for just one sultry evening;
O’ how they are terrified I will run away with it.

Into the night with the silk sarong that keeps their nose in every dandelion pie.
Signed and scored by the unguis of Lucifer.
Their lacerations are no match for me:

I am a thoroughbred,
Off the latch and wolfing the mint residue of a Grasshopper,
From the stony cone bowl gifted to me by truth.