That This That This Is

You’re not supposed to see through us.
We’re supposed to call attention
To our physical existence

So you can contemplate questions
Posed by theories of metatext.
Frankly, we’d rather you saw through,

Just keep sawing away at us,
Incompetent at carpentry
And violining as you are,

Until you’re all through. Fall quiet.
What next? You’re on the other side,
Looking at us looking at you.

Once, the pimply boy with bent legs
Saw the plain girl with a large bust
Was staring at his crooked feet

While he was staring at her chest.
Reader, we warned you about this.
Look what’s behind what’s looking back.