Tonight's Poet Corner: Black Gloves

Black Gloves
by Belinda Roddie

The gentleman is waiting for you
with wax in his ears, white film
across his eyes, and a tongue forked
enough to rival a cobra's sneer.
He wears black gloves. When he
walks, his cane is as thin as his
legs, the knees bulging outward,
two bony worlds on a fragile axis.

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