you wear yourself out
in a compact mirror,
sold out in your size,
you wear yourself, out;
swivel to praise your victor,
the knees of your trousers,
thin as haricot verts.
6 thoughts on "you wear yourself out"
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in worn denim circles..
and plastic frames.
i like the ping-ponging
inner voice of this..
you had me at haricot verts
That first comma in the third line spins the whole poem 180 degrees. Terrific.
Yes, love the turn in the third line — and the images that follow really hit home.
Your poems are so mysterious, ever enchanting
and show up anyway