Siamese Twins
The darkness is the archive
of their loss where the stars,
grinding to their billions-
of-years-long halts, spin
for a while, spit-shining
their patent leather shoes.
The colorblind philosopher
amuses herself with her Rubik’s
Cube of logic, a tone-deaf
organ grinder hard on the heels
of her dark, arbitrary monkey,
while the poet, her brooding twin
with perfect pitch, croons
the dictionary-thick oeuvre
she knows just might, with luck,
get them through the night.
Larry D. Thomas
Posted over on Right Hand Pointing
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