Saturday, September 5, 2015

Forget Your Woes

A Birman licks her paws—deformed and pale—
and wails, inside the doorway, where the footprints fade. 
A belly rises, quivers, falls. 
A head is hanging down—the eyes are open wide.
A sign implores, in letters painted scarlet-red,
"My fellows, have a drink, forget your woes." 
Fluorescents buzz and flicker, overheard.  

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