Anemones
Humidity tangles my saltwater hair,
thick knots of the intolerant me
lashing out an admonition to a God
who like the horizon flatlined
dissecting us from a distant eden.
Only the whooping vultures fatten
on the cuttings of His image; the
fleshy scraps that fall to the floor.
Their eyes - an oasis. My eyes - mutate
in the turquoise sea, black coral reefs;
amputees swaying like anemones.
Bush-league medicine staining the
flamboyance, discreetly sweeping
indigent debris under an all-inclusive
welcome mat.
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