Filed down to a bone heart
on which the little molecules of glass
keep dancing.

Eyes in a hood of sculpted steel
peering to the comma of a cave's mouth.

Walls of hard earned life that are
slats in a collapsing mansion
explosions touching rubber limbs
the roots of prosthetics scorched
by the lungs of the larger financial animal.

Two sticks of wincing brain
fizzling embers with unmeant kisses.

And a shit-hog wallowing
in his destabilized crucifix
lashing the magnet to his necktie
whose pull recites the numbers of death
from a tower of mouths flung down,

the dissected ancestor
in a field of forced bellies
gleaming.