Thomas

Chimera Poetry

 

He fell to earth,

 and when the breath returned to his body, 

he stared,

 wincing at the sky in disbelief,

and had to decide

to live,

or topple over into panic,

chafing at his human mask,

something to hide behind,

as he adjusted to the heavy air.

Janus had two faces and he wore them like a crown,

but this was no god and more than one version of himself,

 left him confused,

his senses rambling in and out of coherence.

He kept forgetting the right words and his lip sync fell and broke.

“Who will rid me of this turbulent body?”

he cried, 

culling the words from old pages and hoping

the cantrip would work.

Moving uneasily,

clumsily,

through the night, 

hiding from the car lights that slowed when he came into view,

feeling the minutes drop like dying leaves,

he wondered,

if any slight of hand would…

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