black draftee (james hunter) - alice neel (11/11/20)

painted, photographed

even mirrored

every limb is left unfinished.

let them wonder. let them wander down 

the city streets like ribbed dogs, wagging shifty tails

to the beat of every thought. let them

sit on the stoop and wonder with cigarette puffs

where I’ve gone.

what window i’ve freed myself out of.

I am known for my shadow. for the enigma handshakes

that leave sultry stale air on your palms for weeks.

I am my mystery. they talk about me

because there is nothing about me to discuss.

because I left

because I died

in the same fashion every skeleton hound dies

stuffed in the closet it was born in

alone with mops and mold as my mother

and yet i still live among the masses

out of spite, out of hatred 

for every large number

out of revelation in my ordinary mystery

for the laughs on the stoop in cigarette irony 

that the time when I was most a man 

was when a single soul considered to pencil me in.