i stand still

by blake ellington larson

molting

the leaves
i let leave
bony ribs
malnourished

like some kind of
unoriginal sin
my throat is as lump
as cats sleep

i crawl to the mirror

my long stares
offer
no new apologies

i am defeatist at best
and she points to where
i’m bleeding

how
my coat pockets
stain fingers
while i’m
a’ searching for pennies
in dark dark ink

and my ancient
clown mask sweating off

how soup lids
drip steam

(2009)

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