Listen to the palpitating of this horse / heart and I will answer in the language // underneath this skin.
The boys have never seen him, don’t believe he’s real, but the girls all whisper about the latest boogeyman, the Deer Lord they see outside their bedroom windows at night; the deer who wears a human skull over his own face.
Once, I offered pieces of myself to every man—my hands, my coins, my words—
I don’t own a cheese grater. capitalism makes this okay.