Poetry Thomas Pescatore — September 23, 2016 10:25 — 0 Comments
The Elevator and the Pants – Thomas Pescatore
standing in the elevator. There were
three of us there. I was standing in the right
corner back against the fold
we were all wearing pants.
After we passed the second floor the
two other people huddled close. whispering
but I could hear them.
“See he has pants on,” one said. we all had pants on.
“do you see?” one said. “Yes.” the other said.
Their backs were turned to me. I looked
down at my pants. ‘I am wearing pants,’ I thought.
The elevator doors would not open. How many
floors had gone down. ‘They’re wearing pants, too.” I thought.
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney