Insanity

The quick-sliding cape of mind Drags wrinkled on a dusty floor, A party dress, Sagging from those shoulders of a smile that stalks through crooked time followed by a goat nipping the petticoat. Scape-goat, grin out loud. Make the cloak a shroud. He whinnys through the nose, paws the trailing hem and strikes a fawning pose. Tight-clamped, the clasp of tin Tears cloth it won’t undo. Before the gown slips down. A rent . . . which lets the darkness through.