Interrogation
Megan DeBussey

Sweat in December?
O, the ghastliness of it all!
Clumping together heavily
Like flurescent beams,
And I the interrogated criminal--
See how she perspirates?
She has done it.
And the nervousness of her hands,
Clutching at her brow
Like a handbag--
What is she trying to do now?
Roll away her dough-face,
Wet And hotsick?

The officers collect samples for evidence.
The officers scrape off my sweat Like a nail file;
They are filing me down to the quick.
This sweat is all I have!

It holds me together like gum
And blood clots.
It is all I have,
As awful as the perspiration Swaddlings may be.
It is all I have.

The officers, they
Click their tongues, they
Click me into chains,
The sound deft
Compared to the deafening
Drops of sweat that fall and shatter,
Splitting open, fat and motionsick,
Little teacups,
Numerous
Glass Bhuddhas.