Sloth

If you're one of seven

Downfalls, up in your kingdom

Of mulberry leaves, there are men

Betting you aren't worth a bullet,

That your skin won't tan into a good

Wallet. As if drugged in the womb

& limboed in a honeyed languor,

By the time you open your eyes

A thousand species have lived

& died. Born on a Sunday

Morning, with old-world algae

In your long hair, a goodness

Disguised your two-toed claws

Bright as flensing knives. In this

Upside-down haven, you're reincarnated

As a fallen angel trying to go home.