September Poem 5: High in the Bag

The audience with a lunar bag of

Cheetos. The full moon, riding high in the

Bag, floated. Buffeted its way. Slowly.

With strands of white it disappeared. The back

Of his neck was lit up like a ghost and

Rose up like watermelon and cabbage

That was for sale. Parrhasius processed

The mechanisms of disappearance

Known to the trees. Zeuxis, the finalist,

Envisioned them red or orange stripes on

Black. They were manipulation. Punching.

Hair pulling. Interfering with the loop

That his words had around my head. One must

Keep Parrhasius happy. It is known.

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