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