Quadrangle 68 poetry

Superman
Eisa Hashmi
There’s a reason I only wear glasses:
to tease you, to make you stare and think,
“Maybe... Is that... No, It couldn’t be...”
 
There’s a reason I have this skin-tight suit.
Why leave anything to the imagination?
I fly out for you, and you’re all staring anyway. I get it.
It’s not often you get to see a man fly into a burning building
and come out the other side with an intact newborn, circle back
and put out the flame with a single breath, not often
you get to see a man who could just as easily start
a new flame with a single smoldering look.
 
There’s a reason for the jet black hair with one
loose strand perfectly draped down my forehead,
the gold across my chest, the bright red below
my hips. I know where your eyes want to look,
I’m just helping them there.
 
See, there’s a reason these baddies want
to kill me. They’re jealous, they don’t look
the way I do. These poor saps, so horribly deformed.
I know Bruce has to deal with it all the time.
Two Face with his half-burnt face,
The Penguin looks, well, like a penguin,
but my Lex, my poor old Lex,
he’s got the worst deformity of all--
He’s bald