Taxidermy

We are creatures of prudent stitches

stuffed to stillness: black currants,

puppet buttons, unfathomable tides.

Patchworks of fluid and dark hands.

We slosh. We are full. We are poised.

 

I spread my neighbor’s flustered aorta

on my nutty morning toast, buttering

quiet guts with envy and wholesome

hearts. We became artists in this way.

Cannibals. Rancid sculptures. Poised.

 

Later, I’ll squelch my own shadow

like jelly bean crawlers. Exquisite

exoskeletons sprout crooked light

in berries from neighboring teeth.

Their jaws are set. We are poised.

 

Our hands lie still.

Guts. Jaws. Still.

We are poised.

At least.

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Published by

Jenna

Hello, fellow bundle of nerves and flesh! I'm a simple little being who's half-poet, half-scientist, and all gelatinous chaos. Sort of like an illogical marshmallow. If you'd like to learn more, please seek out the "First Impressions" page. Thank you for the visit, bundle friend.

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