Let’s milk names along gumlines
Take the bit, feel the reins stretch
like destiny came calling from a bargain bin paperback.

From the altars your prayers look more like my sacrifice.
daily incantations washing through ears;
they ring of a hangman’s consolation.
They should have called me Collateral
They should have called me Carnage

We move like breaking wheels
spitting molars.
We whistle with music boxes turning thumbscrews.

It’s the perpetual motion of a noose,
the twine that lipsyncs with a mother’s hiss
that drives us to the warmth,
to the ovens; the gentle rowing of the spit.

Let’s crack bone and set them broken
while we watch men come before they stop kicking
like death is better than fucking.
We know that’s how mandrakes are made.
We know that’s how mothers are made.
They should have called me Damaged
They should have called me Baby
They should have called me Salt with wounds in it

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