IV.
They made me wonder where nature
hid its famed silken-wing freeway
from adhesive residential larva
My retinal royalty
was bustled to a squint
to register the flashpan flowering
of fashion sense
by the girls with whom I shared my youth
Cracked fabrics unveiled new anatomies
like the moulting mantises of the biologist
I worked alongside
I grew up inside a zipper
just like nature's caterpillar
No winged secretions of mine would hedge
secrecy's whistle-blowing shrubbery
My eyes were my wings
and on their own were no one's mystery
No mystery
like the discipline
that swam down his forehead and neck
and broadcasted off his torso
like proud chrome ripples on an earless
television screen
No mystery
like his favourite colour
too swirled up in the the frantic extrovert's
paraphernalia to boast facthood
among an indifferent village
that saw and rationalized a blur
To the heiress of the near-entire
village's superintention of sight
No mystery pink
is his favourite colour
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