Cold meat covered in thin white cotton.
One foot protrudes.
Mouth agape, drools silently.
Teeth removed, stored neatly on the roll-away table.

As if you might get warm,
or wake up and need to chew.
Sourness—a look or a feeling? I’m
not sure. Mislabeled television controls.
I’ll see what I can do to fix this

Listed at Duotrope
Listed with Poets & Writers
CLMP Member
List with Art Deadline
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