A rib cage
hollow enough
for the canary
to live in.
Fingers
that ants could
climb between.
Jutting collar bones
for squirrels to nestle.
A carved pelvis
for two blue bird’s nests.
An empty stomach
for the house cat.
Cheekbones
for the caterpillars
to sit on.
Stick legs
for the snakes
to wrap around.
Eye holes
dark enough
for bats.
Filled with animals
that ate away at the organs,
something the owner
could never do.
You point out again an owner’s inhumanity…
on the kitchen porch
the three-year old finds
a dry wasp nest under
the abandoned turtle
shell. he says,
maybe ants will move in
Your poem, and the comments, are awesome. Do you remember the publication _exquisite corpse_? This is so authentic that it would have fit the journal perfectly. Thank you for a great poem.
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