most times we wait
for bone harvest
to flesh
for first sigh of blood
for grunt work’s spin
we guard our knees
drag our limbs
tilt scarred hands towards amber dusk
and rise from the trenches
our unmoored unalivenees
moans
somewhere inside of us
where dark things scratch
blood heat’s caw
awakens our belly clocks
as sharp as book spines
our meals are co–authored
shameless gang —
braining fantasies
anthropophagical cravings
newborn thighs
silk fine lust
stacked husband plucked from football monday’s
with beer dripping breasts
divorcee tongues marinated in rocket sauce
first bite fractures the undeadness an inoperable splinter
tendon snaps puncture what lay so still
lopped off
murdered potential coils down the dry pipes
and for a second
we feel alive
flash feeling
of human’s
electric hum
in lean years
we huddle potato–eyed
squat in dumps
shatter bird cliques with spare limbs
peck at survival
groan all night
for next day could be dust day
our heads in our lap
we do not ask
simply paddle by osmosis
learning as we feed toe by bloody toe
to carry on
we pick at scabs and lumps scalding side–alley dumpsters
sacking three or four a night easy
a bare sputter to drink a patch of marrow to suck
gorging the meager rations
after all this should be enough
to wail without memory
to lug our breathless bones
to consume checklists of menued parts
but no
we are a dangle of arrested hooks
warring day and night for plasmic gore
for brains
brains
brains
to fill this haunting of our belly ghosts
we are not the bad guys
recognize stars
listen to the mad thrust
of a trapped house fly
pounding at a closed door
cannot summon feelings but go on
we see can see
we see ourselves in these things when we eat
