Infected Leg
work
the genes are stitching
it is the gravity of the past
the weight of planets descending
invisible uncarpeted
stairs
it is the man on land
in asking why the drowning man
grasps at straws
the master looks on, very perturbed,
distracted, as if
thinking of something else
very busy
distracted by all the great effort, all the good things,
he has wrought , in spite of
everyone else
with their skinners in the bossman's
pocket
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