Wrecked with the roaring kinetic energy
of a loaded rollercoaster.
Grays hid in linen folds & body creases.
The creases were panting—
gray & thirsty.
Brown & rigid in the crook of an elbow.
Linens. Your linens—
bedded, kinetic, & roaring, like tornadothunder.
The creases were panting.
after Jay Hopler
- This poem is a pastiche of Jay Hopler's In the Garden.
- This poem was first published in Poetry Salzburg Review.