Silverfishes Poem by dan hightower

Silver pantomimes pervade the silverfish and lather the intrepid dangler until softness has emerged from grainy surplus and ignominy transcends enmity until agony is understood by the bypassed intellectual, the paragon of phantasm, the paradigm of shifting shelves under an adverse city lights district now dark and dank in murky mini-memories, the morsels of dainty fatigue now settling in as the mongrels of stained teeth and raspy voice crouch hidden in the shadowy refrain of cab horns and silent screaming fingers pointedly telling the tale of the city without words, where might be the coda, where might be the sojourn, where might be the falling acorns to strike the death blow to the inching inch worm inanimate now after incurring the infinitesimal homicide, and where are the mourners of her release? Where are the belittlers and anglers of emotion, the hoofed crusaders benign until a wednesday, the day of reckoning on their calendars, the flashy shirtless porcelain shards of once sanctified beauty now curtailed by the alacrity of acuity, the death spasm before us, deciduous and demur, daunting as our fate lay before us, the sight of the scene should cause breaths held and shoulders touched, should warrant a moments grace for the memory…