Behind the Beat of This Alien Drum
The rhinoceros spins along a row of elaborate flowers
in a [hesitant] moment's waning moonlight.
A midnight two-step; the bee-by flutter
of an untouched horn three shades lucky.
I rub the place where it stuttered
hoping to osmosize a sa[m]pling of karma.
Its aboriginal texture is confusing; my fingers
play it like Braille. Bleeding themselves
across indecipherable scales, I worry[bead] this tree
line aura. Heavy as smoke, I am
dying with its breath. I
dive through a random
streak of sand. Come out clean
of everything but the ghastly image
of a mustached cigar being
swallowed by a sure-footed swish
of a tale.