The Surfeit Dies Spurned


Some fractured bird left behind

on the steeple 

To be turned on its side

Spilling red crown drowning

in bodega beer


German shepherds peek 

above the body

of a caliper jaw cut slack


In naloxone pavillions where

hunched over amelic hands 

caress each claret quill

 

Heedful to each chrome snap 

of a stake puncturing through 

the vomit bags



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