Morning doves & the hard striking nails of a Wolverine.
A whistle & the last drops of an early rain.
She’s built a black virgin from foam & plastic & bone & she’s opened its face
Follow the river. Hold close to the fence.
When did we last eat? Monday? Yes. Monday, I think it was Monday.
They’ve cleared the room & left the sheets of hot metal to rust.
They’ve welded a face to the wall & took turns with a razor.
she’s planted a dog’s skull at one breast & a seed pod in its slick vagina
I can see the body curled in the corner.
It’s through the screen I’m looking.
she’s skinned the head of an ox & raised it on wire & wings
As the day grows dark, a crowd begins to gather at the edge of the field.
One has a drum & another the leg of a goat.
Have you seen Hazel with her silver gown her silver turban her silver teeth?
Will you sit at my left & read to me from the golden book?
& she’s split the naked torso of her twin & trimmed its fissures with ink & poison quills
The rain has begun again. Helicopters circling in pairs, a mastiff & a red Ferrari.
First, they were arranged in a line & then one at a time they were led away & after a while no one was left.