Bone marrow transplant au Paris
Brutalized eyes in a skull
A husk of image
In an empty skin
Skin as tight as light
As shadows flickering
On a man with eyes like vipers.
Solemn, slow, the tusk begins to grow
From blood and bone.
Draining the body fluid
Into the sewer beneath.
Above castle stone - in Normandy or Picardy -
Thunder rushes to the hills beyond.
Too like you to stand these waves,
Topographically, a Slave State;
Yet, slivers of the skin remain
Under thumb nails - locked in splintered wood.
Falling, we hear the drums,
Beyond any horizon,
Out of step, and falling.