Closets

Get rid of it.

Your sliver of a stare

and canyons of corduroy

pleats in loose slacks

like crow’s crinkled feet

in rays around black eyes,

Still reside in drawers

that hold what I cannot.

Your swamps of bruises

and rolling planes

of freckle constellations

geometric skin cells

and fine hair flecks,

Still are tucked in cupboards

that hold what I cannot.

Your shallow self-worth

and small calloused palms

sweating through sleeves

wiped on satin tablecloths

in streaks of liquid silver,

Still are trapped in closets

that hold what I cannot.

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

I aimlessly wonder why no one has commented, and only 16 views! Dare I say I feel I have found something rare and mighty, mighty potent!