DADDY DEAREST
HOPE IT’S COVID…
And not old age!
My stage is under closed eyes
and the shadows move
at their own pace.
A Rorschach blot, but which one?
The natives have cooked someone,
but who? I have a fever but
I’m not that hot! A yellow monarch
presages technicolor.
Sometimes the stage snippets lead
to poems, sometimes not.
Like now.
