COWL
The cowl is the hood I
hide behind. You'd never
find me there. I am the scowl
therein, without an 's' of course,
and as well-hidden and precise
as anything else can be.
-
From beneath the endless imbroglio, I stand up:
it covers me, in tatters, and coats my very being.
There's nothing very enticing about that. For ages
dogs have been mangy and cats have distempered;
small veterinarial quirks eventually taken care of.
For me it's somewhat different. I regard mankind as
a curse delivered - malfeasance enamored of itself.
I shake hands with everyone I must. I nod back to
those I care for. I have a few. Minions and friends
are acquaintances with whom I spend time, but
nothing, I've found, can give it back once it's gone.
-
There's the deadly rub:
To say nothing and go on?
Or to make mention of the constant
loss, the steady leakage, the airstream
just slipping away? In either case, I am
what I am and doomed to be just that.
-
In spite of all of that, I offer my hands
and my heart to anyone present who cares.
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