Umbrella’s lighter offshoot

Esther Greenleaf Mürer

lives in Philadelphia. Her poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Mimesis, Unsplendid, Town Creek Poetry, and The Externalist.

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When I consider how my pants are rent
bare ruined pants where once the late birds sang
(the silver swan, who living had no pants)
pants fall apart; the center cannot hold.

Getting and spending, we lay waste our pants.
Pants, idle pants, I know not what they mean.
Thou still unravish’d pants of quietness
he fathers-forth whose trousers are past change.