What eats us lies to us, hands me a basket
of my failures, takes my broom
and sweeps back all my pains, punishment
grinding the doorknob, we shake
as bodies in a cold wind, hammer down
our windows and are leached, the black
dog, sitting outside, wading shaved lions
into the pool, slit and carved as wooden
limbs, chipped casually by rising prices,
lice building in our hair, quiet
raptures of tv ads and posters of dinners,
they say we reap what we sow, so we sow
more than anyone, our fingers bone
and slimming into compost, backs
slotted from boulders, wan cheeks, silent
shoulders, maneuvering crows
we’ve wed them, slapped vanilla cake
onto our bedspread, remember
the rapes, wolverines, dead things with
awake eyes, we roll the car up the hill
with the weight of our skeletons,
dense blood that chalks our hands, rocks
our shattered cradles, my memories
are a marching band flooding my bedroom,
the pictures knocking on the walls,
quicksilver injected by a six pointed star
I’ve loved like a sibling, but knelt
by its feet, hovering over the dragon fire
belching its fangs that sprung
as shadows, dancing Goetic forms with
noses of bulls, hands of chicken feet,
snake bellies and wings that visions and
prayers never cease to bring
titans that bury my organs into night,
the full moon, she’s a closed fist,
just awaiting my heart to stop, stand up,
and say something liken to
an elk’s moan, a hardened watered cry,
that she will snuff, with one

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