Proscenium by Shine Ballard

strollering past my picture

window, they pry my attention

from its perch upon my work

a performance begins :

the scarletpen of errors held,

the dustygreystick which evades

the blush of blemish(ing)

tenuously temple touched

pages to pore in one hand,

the other, pages into which i pour

this mise en scène reveals i've seen

those eyes seeing me—

one mustn't

starve the expectations, since some

of this is not more than myth

gossip, secret, embellishment—

it's all just tales tangled in lips,

and what good is a poet, penner

who can't pencil some good teethsucking,

wheatstalk whispers to tickle

the sills of others' interest

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Shine Ballard, otiose&outré, currently creates&resides on this plane(t). Twitter: @xShine14