CLARK KENT


 

Round horn-rims and recessive pose

are just as much disguises

as the bright caped spandex suit,

the blinding speed, the

public feats of strength.


Lone now, lone always:

dropped from a far exploded planet

pretending to be human

sentenced to spins

through random phone booths

 

intergalactic migrant

ever on guard

all-American

without green card

peering in.





Mobius, Vol. 32 No. 1 (Spring 2021)