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Dogsick tired and worm-hearted tool you’ll grapple
in your summer places no more. A handful
changes hands. Warm Springs, worshipful
wedge against languages you’ll speak but not
hear spoken. We best batten the wretches
down while the doors still retain their hinges.
Tune the speaker to whatever’s on high.
Bolder climes test the mettle you’re unmade by.
Going nowhere’s faster now: It’s fixed
in surgical procedure. You’re the no one
you always knew yourself to be. Feel
yourself out. Even satellites find no purchase.
You wear your own effigy like an animal
you’ve skinned. Give no quarter to the raw palm
turned up to you. Prepare to accept none
when the disguise wears thin. Nothing’s here to see.
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