Attention, snakes and bees: the trapeze artist has retired. Please note that all of the parrot’s fine plumage has been donated to the octopus.
Somewhere bread is burning, you are humming, the edges of lost letters are turning yellow.
My telephone is trying
to swallow herself again, rotating her tired axis, clicking.
A washed bone, she’s become the last of you, your left leg.
Look at the way I cradle it.