Look at me, my
Frankenstein of a body,
genesis of Mahogany
limbs. Notice this skin,
faded casualty
of sunlight, rain,
passing age.
I’m positioned
at the onset of incident,
like battering rams
serving no-knock warrants or
fists demanding entry.
Consider me a sentry
armed with cognizance
of things concealed
behind my back,
how closed rooms,
offices and residences deceive.
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