My Savior is the Absurd
That changes faster
Than my prejudice
I hold my heads up
To brush the world’s light
With my eyelashes
My Savior knows
What it means to be finite
Everything becomes high
A trumpet grows out of my nose,
Or a clarinet
A tuba perhaps
You really can’t tell
Other extremities follow suit
A cello emerges from my thighs
Ears turn quickly into violins
My belly is a grand piano
Perhaps I have flutes for arms
And bottocks that are drums
Your silence is the music
My instruments don’t play