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