Perihelion: An Online Journal of Poetry and Mayhem
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Walid Bitar


Since I am so full of myself
dealing with others I go through the motions,
and our voices share the speed of sound,
appearances kept up and out of your way,

you seek an explanation—don’t strain
relations built on the bliss of ignorance.
I’ll treat you as a sharp shepherd may
his beasts outside the sacred texts,

teaching the usual lesson or two
without indulging in supervised study,
twirling batons, humming popular tunes,
a tram conductor, not the coup d’etat’s—

lucky for him, the maestro responsible,
suddenly dwarfed by monsters he unleashed,
didn’t waste time hiding in the crowd
into which he simply disappeared.

Pursue him, and savour the stupor
relentless soul-searching throws you in,
perhaps unwilling to believe eyes
you’re dead set against shutting completely,

then calm yourself before I try because
I’ve already showered my affections,
and the rainbow I feel coming now
is cold and distant, its colours deceptive.