Two great skulls beyond the gated door –
One called Life, the other more
Familiar. They sit
Side by side, slightly turned
To face: no coincidence
They’re by a chicken place?
Art and eating – two best friends who
Rarely meet in peace, except
With eyes tied shut. Their child
Changes daily, sometimes Grief
And sometimes an ungainly beast
Called, I Didn’t Know –
Takes as shrine, the tattoo shop
Next door, where needles stitch
These secrets into skin so telling
Walks anew, each day again.
Between these metal bars and shops
They dwell – these ones caged close
And kept a spell by signs of
Pick Up Order Here –
Yet drawing near all sidewalk ways
As onto walls and surfaces
Their marks they spill
In hieroglyphics’ restless
Paint and papered, stapled
Form. No harm, from walking by:
No harm, to look a while
As a passing gaze –
These all, my friends, I hope –
Well, they don’t notice me today
And for my part, I’ll walk on softly
For this moment, just as soon to miss
Their scrutiny.
Skeleton At The Feast 