The Skeleton
by Larry Thomas

Of Mexican clay,
in the classic
Mexican mockery
of death, it hangs
flat against a wall.

Its bones are linked
by copper wire
twisted into ovals.

Its skull slightly
turned toward a window,
it gapes
in the bizarre guffaw
of lockjaw.

Its oversized fingers
dangle well
beneath its knees,
its apelike arms
ludicrous as the reach
of the law.

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