Curtains of Malignance

Your heavy mascara
And violent red lips
Technicolor berries
Can it moor the squirming
Seraphs and lice?

A thousand prolix words
Inside a single line
Can it calm to compensate
A thousand virulent wars
In one solitary day?

Inedible metallic veneer
Flustering the eyes
Crucifying the hands
Of the prying spectators
Can it really harm?

Step on the pedal gravely
The engine rummages
And you hum along
Can you ever run
And outrun your home?

Four dark corners
One despondent room
And ten colossal icons
Of religious expeditions
Can your prayers save you?

Prowl and roar, dear Hyena
For as hapless as it may seem
We'll never know
But we'll let it roll
The curtains of malignance.

poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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