Postcard 1
Two rows of sulfur yellow enamel
Line a mouth in a crooked, knurled array.
Each tooth glows as the aberrant display
Of a strobing, glitching control panel.
Behind them oozes a thick fog of gray—
Like a factory chimney that expels
A sludgy darkness. It billows and swells
With the tumescent glosses of decay.
Wrinkles crack the skin and they resemble
Evaporated rivers—dried up streams
That did not macerate what was fertile.
The air is acrid and movements tremble
As sanguine creases jot through the bleached gleam
Of the face with a carcinogen smile.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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