St. Louis General Dispatch

A rare freeze breaks/ice still coats the inside./Your zany photos,/ are taped by section./Piecemeal , you can allow/ for a sink steel mirror, a toilet./Come to lean against /a far light green wall,/a place where sinners /caught in their grates ./See now,the Missouri shimmer/take it in from your cloister./Eyes weak from arc lights,/ hi-beam headlights vanish/disappear one after another./Hole of unknown degree,/where half dead lions roar/compelled to break their silence./So lions do not lay down with lambs./But bear witness to this process;/a most brutal procedure,/pain leaves its’ gels on scars:/time for a last, cloying cigarette./I search to focus/ through inanimate glass,/to remedy my pig eyes,/with blessings born in triplets.

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