Late Blooms Honorable Mention:
Shaun R. Pankoski
Undone
A man sits at the edge of his bed.
The sheets are grey. An imprint of himself
hollows the mattress, the pillow.
His trousers dissolve into the dust-colored blanket.
The room is cool and the man's arms are bare.
Outside, evening cases a precise square
of sky through the window.
Within that square, a traffic light pulses
like an irregular heartbeat.
The man's face takes on each color without protest.
These things are laid out on the bedside table:
a full ashtray, a thin, brown wallet, a silver lighter, some change.
And a letter, worn to grey along the edge
from countless unfoldings.