The black jacket shrugs on its hanger,

free of my hunched shoulders. Black panties,

pinned in a row, gape like toothless grins.

This is the form I’ll take some day:

gray shirt waving its empty sleeves,

bra sagging without soft breasts, socks

like a squadron of crows. Only

red anklets sway like revelers

at a wake, kicking up their heels.



Photo By: Ken Neoh