yellowed sheer curtains hung dirty and angry
half in, half out of thick-paned windows; in a
tight cabin where even breeze forgets its purpose
you remember too, burly hands
and the stink of wet log; smothered beneath a canopy
of high fisted oak
and jesus shellacked there, his nose pressed to knotty pine
suspended over the low shoulder of some man's daybed
but mostly, when you think of it
you remember yourself;
a gilded beetle struggling flat on its back; lanky legs splayed
gawky
and open
m
Bronze trophy winner
Adding your comment:
thank you so much.
].
