From The Paws Of One Still Living

[jeff harrison]

turn at the punctuation,
you're all the rage I guess but
that tone of sharp grit? that's mine
the lashes are all woven from belly scraps
not all biting creatures are wolves I say but
I'm no scientist I guess, only sea bits come
from my sweating, you could be more
productive they tell me, strangers here are
plucked one by one till they're all gone we're
still here, they're now bits, & the bits? - they're
now in the sea, only sea bits come from my
sweating, that tone of sharp grit turns at
the punctuation, why straw when every drop
entertains? you want to water my brow with
them? you could be more productive they tell me
who comes up missing gets woven into my lashes
I'll pile their air towering for my dessert, for my next
trick, or have I said that before? turn you face up to
the sea bit bosses if you can't look me in the eye
sign on the line, at the punctuation, to give them
an hour's leave, this paid tale is their favorite dream
their lips, scraps spiking the water, were lost in a pile
of bricks, my house creatures are half-built words
what was to be their winding sheets now serve as
doors, walk right in, turn left at the punctuation,
you can join them in watering my brow, happy
families are all alike, we'll peacefully wear locks of
astonishment and shake the water from our hair
you'll wear a belt of straw and ivy buds, with coral
clasps and amber studs, imagine the sun fluttering
in your paws thick five times over, owing to your
rawness it broke and its scraps I wolf: a gentleman
on my father's side was hanged for stealing horses


		
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