curse in Klingon

wipes her brow with a plain white

as lightly armed
gladiactors in the rainbow arena
skate to k.d. lang

subject puts fingers in ears, sings
chap, chap, this chap, nice old chap…

I’ve maintained lordosis
since Christ had croup
and still my back aches but no more
my body fluids circulate
my mind’s alert

if most of reality’s in the future
then it’s time to face the music

the cognoscenti of Middle Earth
curse in Klingon
plough viridian dales

their human brothers run the gauntlet naked
past paparazzi their sparkling cameras

while memory the centrifuge
spatters ink from tabloids
in fine lines across the ceiling