21 (Judas Supper)

struggle in your skin,
rage from your dungeon,
dive into freedom,
a flaming butterfly
into pellucid shallows

liberation feels a lot like
fear, tastes like doubt,
swallows like lumps
of cold regret, raw as
gobbets of pulsing
flesh that slither like still-
living things into your bones
and your blood

the backdrop of the
world flying by looks
painted on, a set piece for
someone else’s production,
an act you have a part in, yet
are determined not to
rehearse for

but the show
must go on, and
you’ll see, a nice
dinner and you’ll be
fresh, gaze deep
into the eyes of
unreason and finally
deign to play the most
important role
you’ve ever played,
a show for a lifetime

so have a seat and grab
a fork, raise a ruby
red glass and drink
silently to the memory of
a red brick road and
a way to track
backward through the
looking-glass

Poem by Shane Douglas Keene

READ THE SERIAL NOVEL BY JOSH MALERMAN