DAYS OF PAIN
Looking at shirts in DTLA.
“Crop it,” I cry.
“Crop it,” I say.
“Why is it not cropped?”
I beg of the man
with the supple face.
Hiding beneath the wings
of his haircut, this coward
and his depraved tunics.
We are all crying.
What is this death.
Why this perfume of violence.
Crop it,
crop it.
The shirt
billows
cruelly.
Sarah Elaine Smith is the author of the novel Marilou Is Everywhere and the poetry collection I Live in a Hut. Subscribe to her weekly bibliomancy forecast at sarahelainesmith.substack.com