a way of masks


I had a slight dizziness
I burned with slight pain from the machines
i traced her smell as she walked past
because her knowledge was unseen

my fear and
her sorrow dropped
out of her
landed behind my eyes
and I accepted them

they were mine

sound didn’t exist
it died at her feet

my vision sat above her pubic triangle
as her moist flailing legs induced tears
a redemption of sorts in b & w

at the same time silence passed overhead
as the jet planes crashed

evidence appeared
dismembered for the dark
and the hanged man

please photograph us
naked in position as a crime scene
exploited for a tabloid

while a dark creature on fire runs away
into the cities sadistic streets
a fine new escape


Peter Marra
Peter Marra is in Williamsburg Brooklyn. His goal is to become an adjective and find new methods of description. He has either been published in or has work forthcoming in Caper Literary Journal, amphibi.us, Yes Poetry, Maintenant 4, Beatnik, Crash, Danse Macabre, Clutching At Straws O Sweet Flowery Roses, Breadcrumb Scabs,Carcinogenic and Calliope Nerve. He is currently constructing his first collection of poems.