Hoodies
by David Phillips
Hold it.
Beneath the cunning cumulus
Hiding under the roof,
Looming within my closet
hides my hood sized starry sky,
held together by one bunny hug.
My hoodie casts a cross on my shoulder and another on my back.
The weight of two worlds,
silk screams, stitching runs ragged
The cross is made of guitar heads,
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