Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Histrionic (a Poem for Day Fifteen of PAD)

The prompt for today, day fifteen, is to pick an adjective to use for the title and then write a poem to go with it. Mine is below. 

Photo by Mateusz Stachowski
No Longer My Apollo


How does it feel to pose on top 
of that ladder like a Greek statue
the masses come to admire? Only
there are no masses here. Just me,
and from this angle, I see fissures
running through from one
side of your stone
limbs to the other. Your curls
have thinned right along with your
arguments—you try to rearrange
them to make yourself feel
better, but you’re not fooling
any of the visitors who paid
admission fees for a peek
of your majesty. You’re not fooling
yourself and you’re not fooling
me. Still, you stay perched
right on top while I take a stroll
along the ridges of our rocky
getaway, keeping my focus
outwards on a horizon
I can’t yet see.
You can have what you want.
Just hold your own hands
and release me.


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