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2020-07-17, poems

Compare Me to the Saints

watches over me
while i write
with his right
hand extended
pointing to the
window, two birds
one on each shoulder
and an oddly long
face apparently
made in guatemala,
the window isn’t
flat and it stretches
my face vertically
makes my eyes look
eight inches away
from my nose and if
i crouch down a little
it makes my hair look
like a helipad or
like saint francis,
it all depends on
who or what
you’d like to
compare me to.