5.

They tamper 
loathfully 
with my 
dimples - this time. The 

weight plums 
the fibers' 
depths. The verse 
of reverse 

is: Animal. The 
sun pops 
dimes off 
the bed. The 

streak 
orange glancing 
my scalp 
picks me - this 

time. 






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The East Village Poetry Web
Brian Kim Stefans