Saw

Hunger

was your first word

Born from dust and the whip

of wrists, you divided

and divided

Vibrating

along the line

Sun freckles burned

into your cheeks

With your unbroken

jaw and singular need

Devour the limb, the lamb,

the please

Kiss the hand

that sold you

Myth and monster,

machine of teeth

Rain-colored ghost

whose song is the whir

and was of aftering

Don't Forget Your Credit Cards

Ambulance. Call it. Don’t forget

your license, your credit cards, cut

your own wet gown of bandages, notify

your own damn family when you quit

your little heart, and the red light

slams blue, then blur, then geletal.

Close your own dreamhole,

smyth-sewn and tight. No

natter anymore, no choiring need

or milk-of-morphine cough. The end

continues though you are suited,

hulled, soon-to-be groom

wed to soil, beloved corpse

admiring the underside of grass.