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