We took the natural way out, burned the boat, laughed. Our first vision
was a real tunnel. We left the kitchen of sadism and metal tongues, the
late songs of subsistence, and ruination’s entire house, its best knives.
We escaped that commonly unseen life and a purple boy is a man
is an animal is fighting for what we meant when we said love under
another name. This is not just a battle for the thing that a tale’s tragic
hand always throws to a falls, and there must have been a crucial archer
answerable for the lives lost ever since. For who could wound the body
and never heal it until death? List his strengths over night and we will
spend our remaining days trying to forget our weaknesses. Call him
the emperor with blue waves in his chest and an animal gets to drown.
The abundance we have now of water is the promise that limits it.
O beast on bended knees, that’s ill-intentioned and you will die,
we say over and over again. Gravity pulls a family tree down and
all the animals are kept away from us. When dreamless, we hear
arrows stamping an animal down and silence and then our breath.
When there’s a thing about us that has yet to be recognized, a dead
animal is not a man and is not dead and is not telling you are cruel,
yet we know what we have done.