How much do you think you can purify
with flagellation and broilers?
Carry through night
with a wintry guise.
Flick the guilt off
your meaty spine
with whips wet in the shrieks of lambs.
First is birth—inherently dirty.
Prepare those salient ribs for divine maws
with your favorite barbecue
more sucrose than home.
I could diagnose your teeth as snowshoes.
I’ve never seen a blizzard bleed before,
but it’s thumped against my own skull
and forged tetanus
from cranial musk.
Spotted white, I know your throat is infected.
I’d call it water on the brain, but it’s simply
the Spring melt. The amygdala’s expansion,
Darwin’s way of summoning those hounds
through anything holy.
Mammalia is chronic.
The treatment is to speak
as lightly as the shedding.