Wet my hair
strained it through the 3’X 3’, little rain
falling over me
licking my fur to my flesh
shucking my nerves and sucking my tanned toes
into a skin of square stoneware, hull of my bare-skinned carriage
lined with dripping blue velvet
where my bones and muscle and sockets and holes and folds and wrinkles
can lose grip of the leash
let fly
while my face bleeds into my fingers
in chunks of punished honesty
still gargling with far too much thought
motives, dramatics, intent, sincerity, relevance
and this chest, burns in time with vacuum’s angry rhythm
pushing elastic vines of bitter glass
over my lips, spinning through the crackling stomp
of my breath