The Talent Contest

she sit before the mirror, hanging mirrors on her

ears and spreads the spraypaint on the haystack that

she calls her hair. She fills a crack, prepares her

nails like blood-dipped spears (they're dripping!)

Smears the lipstick, licks her lips and slips inside

her leopard skin--a plunging 'v' from neck to knees,

but nothing's seen, it's just suggested. Tonight she'll

make a plea for starving whales and heart disease

in trees. She's on T.V., she's longing for a 10 from

presentation, application, lubrication; she'd do any-

thing . . . anything to win. And Yang and Yin, the

juggling twins, come spinning past her door to mild

applause and 5.4s and cleaning floors 'til lights

out. Funny Murray taps his worry beads and reads

the Tarot. She looks around and sneers. No com-

petition, superstition. Blind ambition. She'd do any-

thing to win. And 834's her lucky number . . .