From center stage-lit, high-browed
Face, with hue
White as any, context of offering apologia
Biographical, words come
Confess some
Backtown hick, long as
Near-relation, well as
Black or Indian, then for
First time perk up languid
Listeners in aisles who now
Are searching, eyes, for signs
Not before seen in
Familiar face, lines
Or pigments that give
Up the game and each in mind
Like catching some
Hysterical illness, like licking paint
In children’s school, like phantom gas
In bomb shelter
Thinks “I
Can see it! It’s there! Can you?” (Doesn’t matter
Each knows the face did not
Change color intervening, it’s like
Those illusions where
Old man swaps his
Chin for hair
And turns thereby
Into beauteous youth)
“And Here we were
Thinking, he was like us, Like us he spoke on Subject out
Of Goodness of Heart, like us
Instead we find
Another case
Of special pleading, public working out
Of private jealousy” Each catches thought,
Embarrassed, quick, tucks away like
Stained kerchief --
Though interest
Flags, for some, the rest
Lean forward in and
Strain towards more,
Eyes wide now mouths in
Mold of Hallmark greeting slipping
Margarine kindness dripping
Cooing pity, pitting
Encouraging nods against his last grasp of
Human-manity “Take your
First steps! Can do it!” Speaker knows
What they are doing, has done
The same his self, has shunned
Plenty of others, has been
Cooer and clucker and killer, has sinned
Thus against so many
Passers before, ones
Further down
On color pole
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