animals caught in
baited traps

or the air thick
and yellow

the sun shapeless

and the pieces of
a sixteen-month old girl
are found in a city
five hundred miles away

the smell
of battery acid
like a blanket over

and the rooms in
this house are familiar

the bodies found hung
from the trees outside
have names i’ve
heard before

and i don’t
live here anymore but
maybe at some point
in the past

maybe before
the first tiny hand
was dropped into a
food processor

and now i live
while faceless men
decide my future

but not quite the god
of starving dogs

this by itself a
reason to live

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