Perihelion: An Online Journal of Poetry and Mayhem
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Walid Bitar


How, I wonder, will you react tomorrow
when you’re awakened and remember
me in your dreams, interpreting for you
as you slept—what thanks will I get?

Anything can happen, yet our days
pass in such a predictable manner
the few paid take an interest in—
there is the difference between us and them.

I’ve seen my share, nevertheless confuse
the whole for the sum of parts it doesn’t have.
A holy man learns, deflects attention
away from himself by worshipping it.

A lesser trickster, I pen the odd proverb,
warn my victims, this sense of fair play
among the most surprising finds
when I split my personality,

a pleasure you might be happy without,
but I have no choice, must continue using
power I, of all people, inherited,
and by which I feel persecuted,

prizing, far more than the collective
weight of an army breaking my scales,
the ability of a single detective
I hire to hand me the exact change.