Hatching mean

Hide me my fragile body.
The plains. Fields. Bushes, weeds.
Low ditches I lie in.
I swallow in what swallows me.
What they do, what they begin,
the mice that squeak for
my moonlit profile. Children.
Tucked in the rim of my jaws.
They clench as I clench—
they stole my blade of grass—
as they steal everything the all—
all of it, the trinkets I sit on—
howling reptile turned half-wolf
or more than man the virus
vicious as virae are—
as unknowing, as legions far—
wild like the tiny puma
drawing blood from its teat—
what temper—what ego—
mine, it is mine, yours is mine!—
no tyrant ever murdered
that was not a tiny fiend—
all senses tell of sinning—
spinning straw into gold
the same as the story they heard—
nor is their god the word—
nor is their mother the Earth—
product of john and whore
or sinner and sinner sinning—
limbs like spiders on amphetamines—
spiders on blood-meal—the aisle—
an aisle that attracts
the only sex they know—so?
that of puny desire strong as bedrock—
evil as three chimps doing not as told—

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~ by Jeremy on May 17, 2011.

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