Poetry Month: Recede

Inside the box there is a square
you will find me there
alone with the whole world
punching holes

punching squares of flesh
cut fresh from
the flanks
of the freak show city

squares of brick
and blood and hair
shaped
by windows
rooms and doors;
made
by the prison
it had made

Made of
men and women
who grew and burst;
where flesh met,
the swelling fat
spat

In agony
the creature dies
the insect men
swarm the corpse
and plant a new seed

the freak show city
sees a box, shoulders
the shutter sound lost
in the background
of the freak show city sound

form the meat
work the winder

force the herd
through the grinder

-

You thanked your luck
as they put you on the cattle truck
and said you would be free
You sigh
as the clouds roll by
and you recede
towards the bolt
and the blood-drain
and the land
of no more pain