Hey~Oka (foolish wolves know secrets)

Three New Dresses - Pages 43-44

it's bad enough

that they know it

outside themselves

they shouldn't feel it

crawling

scratching beneath

eyelids that beg for

sleeping

or count on it

branding

red letter tattoos

on their pelvic bones

they slept while

unthinkable words

in foreign accents

whispered

'washing dresses

packing boxes

fighting dust

is your debt'

As if choosing

a meal for them

first, and waiting

a week for a slice

of bread to own

was my admission

my acceptance

of a penance

to gods I don't know

I don't care anything

for your gods

or your good markets

of fine forks

smarter books

pretty dresses

or any of your other

devices

of salvation

you left me then

called me

roadkill, seasoned

with black salt

rubbed me with

expectancy

and roared a laugh

as my bones

crackled on the fire

and the juices

of who I used to be

sizzled into

drippings for better

or worse gravy

you called on friends

made me

an open invitation

already slaughtered

and turned my

insides to the world

as if I were gone

half-baked

was always good

enough

to pull the strings

the sinews once

stitched like dignity

when I was a quilt

you make yourself

believing

consequences are

like arrows

have bullseyes

but stabbed animals

splatter real blood

across kitchens

and baskets

of new dresses