We cry about it. She left us.
She doesn’t care about us.
We might as well be dead, but more importantly,
she might as well be dead.
She had the selfish gene and it mutated.
It caught onto us. It put knives in our hands.
We make a pit outside. We dance around it and laugh.
I pull my head back and cackle. It comes
out of me like thunderclap.
I feel a rush of something toward Yolanda,
this woman who found me.
You scratch at the window with your green claw.
I embrace Yolanda.
Something enters me.
I look down at my stomach.
Blood gushing. My hands, covered
in myself. I scream.
She peels me with expert ease.
You roar from inside.
My skin falls at my feet.
I am pulsing and red and then invisible
Yolanda runs away with my flesh husk. I watch my face
bounce against her hip.