1
Emperor’s Old Clothes
I
heard on the radio today
five
times
about
our decaying moral fabric.
Our
politicians have been busy
taking
the wool sweaters of their
childhoods
out of storage
They
weep and wail
imploring
us to look at the
moth
holes and bullies’ tears.
I
don’t see any holes.
To me
they just seem
outgrown.
2
A Vision
Good
sweet decay
long
overdue
I
shall shout for joy
when
you come
Then
the leather belts
that
have beaten the fear of
God
and each other
into
generations
will
soften into mush
Then
the elastic in a thousand
girdles
will disintegrate
into
breath and womanly curves
Holes
will grow in widening ripples throughout the rugs
that
gay teens and unorthodox families
have
been swept under
until
they step out and stand tall among us
The
curtains of shame
drawn
across black eyes
and
bruised hopes and I can’t
leave
and this is private business
will
hang in unmendable tatters
with
the sunlight streaming through.
Pinocchio
patches of mold will spread
across
the expensive suits of preachers
one
for every deceit, every mistress, every prideful judgment of
their neighbors
When
the clock strikes midnight
the
designer labels will fall off
every
blouse, tie, and handbag
and
the doormen and the police
will
no longer know who belongs.
Welcome
decay
Without
you death never gets
turned
into life again.