Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Grocery Cart, or, A Limited Supply Of Test Pilots


               the splinters spiral, in
                   gritty stop-,motion,
                   in arms
                                with hands
                   and no head.

          i'll cart off the pieces that couldn't take it (amputated-
                                                        but, somehow already
          to wrap them up two-by-two in the tub (wrapped 
                                                        up pretty 
                                                        in a shower curtain)

         and wait, 
         with the pieces that didn't land 
                                   softly enough

                        waiting, for the pieces 
                        to either heal, or 
                        stop twitching nervously

                i think,
                i'm gonna hide here
                with a Simmon's Kleen-Kutter,
                and a manilla envelope
                full of photographs
                                  and journal(entry)s
                full of fingrnails and spit

        the survivors
        will eat greedily of 
        those that didn't make it, and
             like all else 
             -if all else fails-
             they'll start picking at the locks, and
                                  gnawing on the hinges

                i'll see them
                through the key-hole 
                of the needles eye, in
                glancing porcelain-white skeletons
                                        with flashlight eyes
                the spider webs 
                in between their ribs
                                     and second chances.

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