Bony index finger invites
to forest of fallen mammoth bones
here earth's skin is flint,
deeper yet ovens roar
I speak of the straits of Siberia
the migration of flocks, herds and men
I am the breath of winter
snow has fallen through the night
I am morning, I am first light
you are not the first causality of blade
in vulnerability to exclaim
Why me, dammit, why me!
If you knew you the answer to that, my pretty one
I would hold in ssuch disdain your slacking jaw
your protruding forehead,
your calloused knuckles down to your knees
I could look the other way at your language of grunts
You would not be as brutish as you appear
Alas, be a dear and disappear
others wait on line
you wouldn't be nearly as brutish as you appear.
Therefore, be a dear and disappear.
Others wait on line.
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