Perihelion: An Online Journal of Poetry and Mayhem
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Walid Bitar


If you deliver belief in a saviour,
you’ll receive my life savings, a sum
almost equal to its margin of error,
price of a holiday in the sun

where the rich disappear, suffer less
than us voyeurs left behind in limbo,
what we call an introspection
we are constitutionally unfit for,

shuttering windows when tempted to break
their transparent surfaces for the hell
whose views I’m certain a crash wouldn’t change,
plus we’d be left bandaging hands,

vastly preferring the luck of a draw
to either the winners or the losers
sharing our primary character flaws,
why we try outsmarting one another,

help with the dirty work, learn to love
watching ourselves wipe mirrors, such romance
irresistible since we’re so ugly
on the inside we can’t look half as bad,

desires burning with few objects in sight.
I advise blaming an arsonist,
and wouldn’t bother feigning surprise
should it emerge you were him all along.