Anthony Aguero: The Leaves in the Trees Are Looking a Lot Like Shadows

Someone says
          Chemically-induced psychosis
Under a hush;
       in a whisper; and suddenly,
I am vexed
     because the leaves
in the tree
             are looking a lot like
Upon further inspection
              It was just a man            
                      with a blow-torch
         staining glass

perched on a branch.
              But a breeze
                     swept through,
              And gave shape
to a wheezing-siren.
                            I bawled and whimpered.   
       and                        pleaded           
                                    for it to stop.
                        It was like this
         often of the time:
this becoming
       and unbecoming
                     of small,
insignificant tragedies.
          Another interruption
                of the leaves
beckons me to peek
Look here
   The minotaur
with starry-eyes
        huffs the scent of my skin
and rejects
             my loss
                               of sanity.
Then it’s a face
  and a palace
            an endless maze
and we’re in hell.
And I’m spitting
      myself from myself.
                    A gust of wind
            blows through,
                           and I am vexed.
A whisper,
                an urgent hush
asking how to get off this tree.

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