doors refuse to latch
because life leaves
us spread-eagled,
in timeless disgrace.
I hunt a civilized heart.
When it one day refuses to pump
I will slump
against broken locks and rabid bolts.
feral child with hot blood
in a goblet, racing fierce
upon four unequal legs,
nothing is fair,
and my pale ferocity
will be shepherded into blond pastures
long after I am hidden elsewhere.
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