Daddy’s Skin ~ Emily Cardé

A stranger lit the tip of his cigarette

Fresh smoke twisted in the air

Smelling of home…

Of father.

His ideas had twirled

As rapid and random as the smoke

From his menthol-laden Marlboros

I laughed with him

Contemplated with him

Prayed for him…

Of one thing he was sure

“I’ll donate my skin as art.”

It was him

He wore it proudly

First marked by Θεός…

A claim for himself

Or a mark of ownership?

I still don’t know

Another god, a lame forger

Was mining away—

Is that Man’s purpose?

Or does Truth hide in the elements

Earth, Fire, Water, Air,

They twine round his limbs

Where Prisms of light fracture into a rainbow

And the Eye watches

Stevie’s interpretation

Of a silent Scream

As Mr. Smith worries

He is to be Spiderman’s dinner

Jack is marrying Edward to a corpse

With an old lover’s name

And Marla’s sitting, emptied,

In a used bridesmaid dress

Tossed away like a Christmas tree

Joker’s laughing at the ceremony

He questions my solemnity

But I am still afraid it’s a funeral.