Last
sun squatted smoked in the hall
Till
dark burst out sobbing
Baptizing
the dirt
Now
shadows write longhand
On
the inky diaphragm of night
Hardened
cracked turned to powder
Under
the grey-black buffalo of the moon
and
the stars' bitterfruit
Ground
to bitterest nose
is
the face in my palms
A
hot pellet of gall
Skin
hangs like a pirate flag
Stomach
head feet hurt
Belligerent
rib bone quake
Smitten,
surfaced with litter
Night
is no poultice
Its
Snout imposes in my ear
and
the untidy tear sleep,
It
cracks too loud to quell
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