A few swaying tassels
fitted the bearded mask.
Shhh, it said, breath dressed like a shapeless road.
Across the forehead, spiders misspelled
old motifs- creeds etched in sparse silk.
His teeth were dry grass,
threaded through shredded gums.
He painted pipes and drove them to the ground,
to prove history can be easily done.
In a last review, he shaped dried blood
into a hole and wondered
why
his body shrunk,
his life coiled out,
but his eyes looked larger.