​

through a cracked maw

of me

and destitute in the

palace rooms

without pride I dipped off

beneath their rags and anthems

off the edge I folded

like a falling bird

stranger, other, ant- and arch

my feet off-blue on the

cold tile floor

it’d be best to be passed

and shed to wan and thin

my name pulled from your ears

and poured into the wind

​