After Nowhere Album

A poem written in response to this picture.

Pink flyers hang from
Ropes swaying (barely) in
Wind like young leaves of
Penicillin, when melted are
Forgiving on the mouth for
Fear of rejection.

A hand wants to touch but
No such luck or lick.
Off limits. If you taste
That paper it will dry
The tongue on moldy bits of
Piglets.

Not that you could tell,
From such a succulent tail
Brought forth to another world where
The Cat in the Hat is Siamese
And travels around saving
Little girls from fat orange tabbies.