‘Spotlights and Shadows’: A Poem by Susan Jarvis Bryant

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Spotlights and Shadows

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I. To a Limelight Leech

O swankpot of the swish-and-swagger ilk
Basking in your braggadocio glow,
__You stoop so long and low
To lap up flattery as slick as silk
That spills from ovine swine of kiss-arse lip.
__This eely spiel
Propels your ego on an oily trip.
You rocket in a role that trumps the real.

O preening peacock of the plastic flock,
O tinsel-hearted, glitter-glutted peach,
__The puffery you preach
Makes feather-ruffled rivals quick to mock.
Your grand and groundless flounce to centre stage
__Puts showboat sheen
Above the gleam of merit’s golden age
With glitz that glints in irises of green.

O icon of the glib and gaudy cause,
O paragon of sequin-souled panache,
__Your razzle-dazzle splash—
The soaring roar that summons false applause,
Has lured the very devil from his pit
__To learn just how
A bauble-bellied snake becomes a hit.
O Limelight Leech, you’ve earned my bogus bow.

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II. Mister Mirrorless

He peers into the mirror, yet he never seems to see
The image peering back at him—as batty as can be.
He gels his hair, with snap and flair he floats into the night.
With hunger clawing at his bones—he’s ready for a bite.

To sate his snarling appetite—to gag the growl within—
He glides beneath the lunar light—his palate set for sin.
He sniffs a whiff of horror in the torrid twilight air—
Aioli sauce? He changes course to dine where devils dare.

He nuzzles and he nibbles. He guzzles and he licks.
The flesh of fragrant dishes is his sanguinary fix.
He pecks and sucks, adjusts his tux, then darts before the dawn.
Shadowless he hovers home across the dew-kissed lawn.

He peers into the mirror, yet he never seems to see
The image peering back at him—as batty as can be.

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III. Demon Daddy

This lofty exorcist of saintly light
Berates blaspheming fiends of spleen and spit.
Before the lunchtime-sun has flexed its might
He scorches shrieking beasties in a snit:
A sear of aqua magic and a psalm,
A whisper of the great and goodly ghost,
A pious flourish purging inner harm,
A chug of charm to chill the fevered host,
Forces ghouls engorged with gall to flee
To shady spaces at the murky core
Of sorcerers too virtuous to see
A serpent sliding through their own back door.
The mad moon and the owl have always known
An exorcist has demons of his own.

first published in Snakeskin

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Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas.