Residual Heat

By Tanya Y

There sits a man in a business dress

Too big on his shoulders

It makes him look less

and more, at the same time.

A grey blazer missing its top dime-

The important button.

Importantly, he sits heeled

On an old steel bench

The yellow paint has peeled

Giving way to the metal

Except where he has settled

His importance makes the paint stick.

His tea is brought to him

He Kant remember his own

Ten minute speech on Socialism

He responds only to snake hisses

Ssssaab, sssir pleasse and …kisses

His cup is slightly chipped at the top.

You and I, his secret know

He imagines he is immune behind

His knotted brows, his feet of crow

His frown lines, his hooded eyes

His oversized suit, his missus tries

To rub out of existence.

But it perseveres, Señor

Just like its master

Outliving its tenure.

Hanging. Waiting. Until some soul

The Luxmi or the Lamp of His hole

Starts looking him in the eye.

By Tanya Y