He is turning
worrying shades of purple
neck visage scalp
his forehead publishing
a turgid scribble of veins
fingers clenched into bundles of ginger
and you can see his shoes
alive with indwelling toes
and you wonder if ever a bald
head has been those hues
has hoarded so much blood
it is his turn to make confessions
and equivocations no doubt
to air out
in a way
his world-view from plum lips cinched
thin and askew I expect
and so do you
that at any moment now he will just chuff
chuff like a bolting train
hingewise that unplanned tonsure of his
rising and falling on plumes of
industrial heat
his round white nose exactly like
a front-lamp
and the facilitator
perched like a regular vulture indeed
with everyone else in the sederunt
tries to govern or at least
not betray their schadenfreude
waiting
for the word
“I.”

Logo Wei and spouse live in the upper Midwest with their hypertensive quadruped. He has worked with patients, students and the homeless. Logan bakes, bikes, and writes as solacing and natural means of seeking matrimony between the two divaricating parties of reality and experience. Logan’s poetry has appeared in Pedestal Magazine, and will appear in Funicular Magazine and Ink & Voices.