Where will you usher me?

If I stretch my rawboned fingers towards you

Let my teeth rattle in the cold following your maneuver

Where will you steer me?

you sit in this cold stone cabinet with hemp around your neck

And the cold pricks you pores

I stand underneath a dome of broken body parts

All swinging and swaying with the fragmentary incompletion of humanity

What floorboards hold up your weight that you haven’t broken your neck yet?

The fur on your back is all standing up and your tail is between your hind legs

I called for a name that matched your face

but only found embarrassment and disgrace


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