Continuing the April Poem-a-Day “challenge.” Today’s prompt: What he or she said.
Eromy Naereh Evil
The fellow in the mirror voiced his strange articulations in
Some backwards land where speech is masked, and only vinyl, in between
Its skipping, doppler slurrings brings a brief coherence (turn me on,
O Dead Man) through the noise. And we, who try to speak ourselves among,
Like Millerite apocalyptic cultists on the hillside in
A rapt anticipation with our eyes upon the promised dawn,
Are waiting for the palindrome.