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Lindsay Coleman

REAPER

 

 

It’s good to wear black

and pad soundless as

a puma through

the unforgiving fluorescence

of the town mall. Good to wear all

 

black and drive to the top

of a parking garage at night

and open your arms like a sorcerer

over the dark arranging

squares of light. 

 

It’s good to wear black and mean it. 

And smile and hold the door for everyone. 

Good rolling through in a black

shiny vehicle, behind black windows,

to wear someone’s face

 

slipping off. Good

to wear black and shimmy out

from the shadow under the stairwell. 

Good wearing black and answering no one

 

died. Also, to wear black for sweat

under your arms. Or at any moment to accept

The Mission.  It’s good to wear black and not look

away. Or look suddenly behind

you. No one there.

 

 



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