cattle skulls on garbage heaps.
illusion is this of being wounded
the last of my fogbound species?
puddle surrounds the bloody corpse,
scored with a runnel of ascending ants.)
the empty flesh in plasters of anguish,
like me before the desert void,
iridescent with witless death.
where is the oracle cast,
divine water of a god
for his gangrenous dream!
wax melts between your teeth.
my child What monster have you whelped?
garland dangles from its beak.
wax is murky, denuded, veined with arteries.
Sundays in a toads snout
like coffins for moonless matrons.
can you evade your disguise,
carriage boozing along
throng of worms for your thighs?
begged your spittle, meteor storms, flint stones.
what bitter snack were your profiles engraved,
as you ripped the splinters from your belly?
have come to warn them.
you have returned with your tinted mouth.
Sundays have dazzling hooves,
casseroles, asbestos forks,
spoons/founts of wisdom,
of straightened mirrors
a recumbent child.
voice burns from below.
all the fairgoers know.