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.