This poem is taken from Stand 240, 21(4) December 2023 - February 2024.

Connie Wieneke Shedding
I imagine my cousin’s tarantula unable to turn its inside out
and dying : stuck between the past and the now of her need.

Dare I make claim that it’s not unlike removing that close-
fitting sweater to slink on a party dress? How my adolescent

body squirmed and cursed : that splurge of a black turtleneck
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