Great
Coat
This great coat hangs in state from my shoulders
broad hem a billowing sail tacking dun
colored seas season after season mile
upon mile of greedy wick and sucking
mud a tracking front sweeping in to scour
foot hills flat head and hands tucked deep within
these fortress walls fingers softly tapping
out a prisoners code in lightless felt
dungeons eyes alive on razor edge wings
poised for flight strand upon strand accreted
in turn while I gathered wool encased at
last within my homespun chrysalis cloak.
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