Poem: Panoptic

 

Panoptic

 

minds stagger as feet rush

to the daily crisis,

slogging to decipher

the latest incident

of the manifesto.

faces make waves

but only in sync,

alloyed to hard smiles

that dig with strain

into mountainsides

of cheekbone,

which bat around hello

so that i’m fine

can bounce off and you?

as if a jigger

or two of numbness

could cure the day,

keep the ache mild,

no bridle required

for grinding teeth. 

all the brief while

eyes flash a thrill,

or conjure up sympathy;

for they see what audience

they were taught to know,

and perceive

for the same reason as

the many other actors

who fish for clues and

compliments and who look out

just the same.

 

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