There’s something deeply wrong with you,

I just haven’t figured out what.

 

It could be that you’re a slave to carcasses

of biting fish

intent on separating

your inside from your outside.

 

Whenever you send me pictures

I always think

I’m finally going to see you naked;

maybe even skeletonized

 

but the landscapes and intangible shawls

are pretty good too.

 

You stride on watery-blue vapor

like a poetic upheaval

pushing through the red glare of delusion,

 

an ecstasy of madness and mockery

leaving behind

a quake of hypnotic brambles

and songbirds of imaginary numbers.

 

And when I send you pictures

of my chasm of menace

(an evocation of cinders and twitching eyelids)

 

I have to be sure

that you don’t get elliptical images

of unintentional obscenity

 

and now that I’ve said it

I can claim it was just an unfortunate

click of a mouse fumbling in rays of egress

 

worshipping your illness from afar

 

 

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Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL, USA with his wife, Vickie and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart, Best of the Net and Best of the Web nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.