Exuviation
Imago wakes one
day to wonder if the soul
Of the child
will accompany the soul of the adult into heaven
For in a dream
from which he awoke in a sweat
His younger selves
lay upon the floor discarded
Were draped over
chairs drying had been folded carefully
Then stuffed
into chests of drawers were hanged
In cluttered
wardrobes unwashed unironed innocent
Blooded bloodied and fleshless price paid
Disingenuous unsung
Imago shivers in
the skin he is yet to shed
Naked and cold
with no hands to hold
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