a poem to Marlon Brando.

church bell. small town. hot breath.

sweet maltose kiss on clumsy cheeks.

histatin healing hurt.

young boy. small boy. old man.

drum hands relieving.

caresses on stretched ghosts.

father figure on a hill. on a heel.

snapped punched perfection.

staged sadness in velvet fists.

wet streets. sullen sleep.

island backdrops to cover the stench of constant discordance.

gut full. glutton.

starved. starving.

a mumble. to Shakespeare.

to shadow.

to window paparazzi buzzing to suck the last of the nectar you ate.

 

a rapist. a husband. a soldier. a stranger.

 

 

 

6OKmwbr

2 thoughts on “a poem to Marlon Brando.”

  1. You cover so much ground of him here, covering him by more than than his looks– delving into his actions and motivations with just a few word references.

    Like

    1. I relate to him in more ways than I care to admit. Yes, he was beautiful. But his ugly was what appealed to me the most. Those hardened crusts, those molded bits…

      Like

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