Has a different mask to put
on his wife, some days the pig—
the rubbery tail entwined in his fingers
and some days the cow—
her horns prick, then gouge his shoulder
Children when they come live
in Halloween costumes bought
cheap, in bulk, from Goodwill
Mother teaches them to scratch
in the litter box so Daddy will let
them outside
Family wrap themselves in furs
hung by hooks in the doorway
allow him to ignore the sentient
eyes that peer from hoods of hair
the hands that long to touch him
back with the madness of love
which sees only what it chooses.
“Mr. Misanthrope” was printed in Breaking Curfew, No. 4 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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