There it is again

At the corner

Of my eye

Dangling, distracting

A tiny strand

Twitching, dancing

As if

From a marionette’s

Interpretive hand

Like a dream

Loosely defined

Across the hangman’s

Rented cowl

Look, the pacifists

Are there too


Preaching their scripture

For the destruction

In the name of, necessity

For the preservation

Of the distracted masses

But who they are, likely

It is lost to me, again

This fruitless labor

Of love, in the name of

The last true reflection

Of integrity, wiped away

I smile, again

As the trapdoor opens

Beneath my feet

And there I am, dangling

At the corner

Of someone else’s eye

A fall from grace

To spare the one

Who stands looking