“A Poseable Man: Pose 11” by Chris McCurry

What you’ve made me do
can not be called graceful.

You need words like shunt
for my bent out torso.

Words that stop short
as if they’ve been chopped.

You want my arms splitting
from my shoulder toward the sky

my hands cracked impossibly
(for grace anyway) at the wrist

before they can even reach for it.

-Chris McCurry

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