A Favor

And trapped under the crushing weight
of a bed sheet
I ask a favor of
the passive yellow fields
and stifling denims
of my dead skin cells
that feed the crawling, unseen things
of the crumpled car
with ripe roses
mangled in the naivety of its bumper
of a word count
that thrives with the passion of dwindling wind
hardly stirring the ash
on neglected cigarette receptacles

oh May
don’t roast me like an overturned beetle
and daze me with the glint of compact mirrors
put me on my feet, May
you please
spare my mind.

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