Undershirt

That undershirt

with the hole I’d like to put my index finger through

to hear the cotton rip with a muffled lisp

like some sad animal crying —

–excerpt from “Undershirt” in To Sip Darjeeling at Dawn by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective 2011). Published in The Cape Rock, Bryant Literary Review, Penniless Press (U.K.)

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