The Clothes Man
sucked out of denim and
cotton, half in running
flat over the bedroom floor
skinless like a cartoon cat
someone I knew the day before
an underarm stainer, a tracer
a schlepper of bad deeds,
hidden in layers, now magic and gone
as I sleep as a big filling
ready to meet myself
in the morning.
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2014
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