Judson Evans

Umbrella-cide

Too many umbrellas and none work, none open without warping or self-shredding. One-night-stands outside rainy buses, five dollars and one downpour apiece. They breed in the dark dishevelment of the closet with old gift bags and single gloves, dead flashlights and dusty game boards. All my weight in an awkward half nelson, wrestling the silky assemblage of metal gristle, double-jointed knuckles that won't splinter. Even when I've thoroughly throttled the flightless bird, its wings clipped with Velcro, I'm left without the creature comfort of smashing to smithereens....

"speak now or forever hold your peace..."
wedding haiga
made of umbrella silk