WIG SHOP CHOIR
You, for whom the bluebirds of happiness
Dress up as prison guards, turning and
Raising your arms – just now – in triumph,
Grasping a chicken leg gnawed to the bone.
Of the wig shop choir!
I could almost hear it, the last glorious F
Still hanging in the freezing air
As I stepped into the crosswalk,
The mad king applauding
With his two red hands.
DANIEL LAWLESS has published in Iron Mule, Kentucky Poetry Review, Iron City Review, and The Louisville Review. He teaches at St. Petersburg College: film, humanities, writing.