Monday, April 25, 2011


And what if I were rip out your vertebrae
bone by bone

as if taking brick by brick
out of a government barracks-building,

could you give your ribs to the work
of holding you up? (Shorter, now, oh bloody flesh,

the epidermic, the thrice
swallowed cortisone. Now injection.)

And what if you didn't need that spine?
My spine spills the ability to kneel. To kneel

is to need, where the infinitive is more than
apropos of the wet snow.

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