Herd: A Bestiary

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 12, 2018

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Submitted: August 12, 2018

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My deer,

my baby goat,

my hedgehog.

 

A sloth crawled

into your head

to cradle your mind

in his trident hands.

 

He’s swinging

down the spinal cord,

downy arms clinging

 

to vocal folds,

words hung

upside down.

 

But a cheetah prowls

behind my pallet,

jaws parted in seeking.

 

She’s sprinting down

the cartilage sahara

with a yowl between her teeth,

each claw off the ground.

 

Your dog hears my

moon honey hummingbird,

feels hunger in the pads

 

of his paws,

but only sees the blue among

a cascade of muted hues.

 

And he yearns to play–

to run, to tug

to fetch

 

to be a good boy

so stay–

because I’ve got to acknowledge

 

the elephant in the tomb

buried between broca's and your lips.

 

The poachers see no tusk.

The procession hears no trumpets.

 

The lioness has found her roar

and now cat got your tongue.

 

Are you even listening?

 

The tentacles are latched

to the drum and boy,

are they playing you.

 

The canals are flooded with ink.

The kraken is drawing near.

The suckers are falling numb.  

 

Wolf up, deer,

my baby goat,

my hedgehog.

 

Pull back your lips.

Bear your fangs.

 

See me as you see the moon

or call in your pack to

make a moose of me.

 


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