He woke to find himself alone and something
He later caught, cooked, and ate it.
Convicted by gravity,
He dragged its skeleton
To an alkali mound, and it rattled
When the wind blew through its hinges.
Grief made him naimla.
Beloved it was as if he swallowed
A dove and it fluttered ceaselessly against the acid
In his innards.
Tell me what thou art, and I will show thee
What thou have opened thy ribcage unto.