Home > Poetry > Sickness
Kim Connell
Published: Tue Oct 15 1974
Art: Paul TheriaultEver New (detail), 2022, acrylic and found paper on scavenged wood

Sometimes it feels good.
Layers of fur wrap around me.
My flesh grows heavy.
There is no energy to worry.
The bones & bitterness
grow soft and disappear.
At night, a flower closes.
Inside a caterpillar wheezes
in the sweet, stuffy air.

See what's inside AGNI 3
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