No Runway Required

How come
no one ever
What are you
wearing right now?
Are you basking
in translucent skivvies,
rocking spangled self-awareness,
dream-dropping golden drawers
and grace-lace in multi-storied tatters,
are you so flagrantly naked right now,
candle-wax-drip in a homuncular beehive
on a Saturday night in heaven,
that you are rising, unleavened,
toward a new species of self-hood?
Are you clad in night-armor,
clank-stepping to the beat of your own private drummer?
Are you on fire, from the waist down? the neck up?
Is the tender, supple geography of your body
high-classing it three-piece-prayer style?
Is your invisible overcoat thick as chagrin
and molasses? Do you feel warm? safe?
Sick of existential hand-me-downs
which come from another time, another place?
Who exactly is wearing pink bunny slippers
from the dustbin of memory,
fuzzy brown sweaters
loved to a state of sentimental holiness,
sleeveless hearts exposed to scarring
and sun?
We live in a world of private parts
and cyclical makeovers,
and yet how rare it is
for someone to ask,
What are you metaphysically wearing
right now?


About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of three novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, and Nocturne Variations, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.
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