abutilon raze red veins sheathe a yellow face a lantern without need for electricity stigma like the pulp of some strange fruit or the terminal hair on the body of a broken dancer the freedom of movement arrested by a stress fracture in the first rib the broader strokes stark and defiant thin limbs rage against the loss of grace with all the awkward wonder of a thing just born 210818 ... unhinged floating on a river like little paper lanterns 210819 what's it to you? who go blather from