The Hand Towels of Obscurity

We continue to linger
like the lint
in the trap of our imperial leaders,

awaiting the day
when the door
opens and an air-laden scoop digs us

out from under the hand towels
of obscurity.
From there, our only hope is

to be placed on a suitable pedestal
and hewn into
adorable pet-like creatures,

so we may be given a loving home and
provided with
adequate nutrition for the rest of

our natural lives (or until
that owner dies,
whichever happens to come first).


Author: Aidan Badinger I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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