He Who Wanders

Seated in a bottle,
Looking out. The world
Is the hermit’s zoo. Men
Flap jaws cut
From granite. Cheeks,
Steel razors red
Like blood. They raise
Their soft gaze, brow taut
Skin covered thinner
Than a sprawled spider
Web. God’s

Greatest creation, I
Watch, half
On them, the other
On me, perfect

In my mirrored
Likeness; nose
Zig and zag; teeth
A curve of white
Rubber bricks.
Oh, you should see
Me. You will,
I am sure,

Doubt my words.
You are my zoo. Now
I’ll be yours. God mad
Only me
In his image. If you think
Otherwise, the glass
Must play tricks,
And I am warped
As the light spins around
Its tapered neck. Don’t think
I am deformed
Like you.

I am alone in my beauty.