Today's poem is by Frances Justine Post
Self-Portrait as Beast
I put on my face. This one is wolfish,
covered in whorls of black and gray fur.
My whiskers flex and fall; I comb them
with my nails. My teeth are broken in places.
Depending on the light, I am glossy
or made of shadows. When I walk, my skin,
loose, follows with a slight delay. What did I wear
when we were new? Must have been the curly
one, lambish. Later, I was the blind ostrich,
my face a sad block, all eye and beak, hiding
in the sand. I chew my paws and pace
the bedroom. My fur is furrowed and sweaty.
I pant. I pant and growl softly, bare my teeth
at you on your way out. I heard everything,
do you believe it? The uneasy feeling
of a stranger by your side. Turn around;
I am the stranger. Go on, run away now,
run away on your dainty little hooves.
Copyright © 2014 Frances Justine Post All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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