On the lacquered shelves
all the curios plucked from my body
the leviathan, the lithopedion, the tar birds
in a row. To see a wild beast up close
you’ll have to kill it, stuff it with stone. Mount it,
pin its wings onto cork. Come in; for a token fee,
this freakshow.
What good is shame
if it can’t be spun into a fable—
here, this girl let the
wolf in and it tore her straw throat.
Babe,
babe. I never asked for this. You stole from me
what was worth keeping
and in the corner
all that I hold sacred
hung from a twine rope.
