When You’re Low

Moon Man 3
By Karie McNeley

You’re as mobile as a still-life apple
painted badly on canvas.

You’ve got strings,
a liar’s growing nose
and an oaken jaw meant
for nutcracking.

You’re a billion Joules of labor
waffled into strips of poly fibers.

You’re a coyote limping
in front of sparse traffic on a dusted
road in Joshua Tree with a paper plate
hanging from your mouth.

You’re a pillow laid in the sun
for cotton blend comfort.

You’re a derelict
on desert bushes.

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