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Morgan Michaels


Gorilla


He squats on the tarmac
nose a bit flat
joints a little big
from walkin' fro and back.

He studies the clouds:
the hairs on his head
were aubergine, but, sunlit, now,
orangutan red.

sulci wide and deep
separate us
like the moat
between Dives and Lazarus.

He imitates the boys
who imitate him
imitating them
imitating him.

Once he flung poo
at them, he did, but they
deserved it, they did-
didn't they, hey?

Submitted: Wednesday, September 04, 2013
Edited: Friday, June 27, 2014

Topic of this poem: love


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