I heard, I’m lovely thoroughbred, Oh! (the clerk
just then) Yes of course. Right away the snakeskin
glowed you knew, I know. No going-back
shoe, all fault and fat cashed
in one shiny leather cause. Remember
causes, as in Angola’s stones clawed from rivers,
as in wars with horses. Back
to this country, the dumb down version,
a man made a faux one anyway
in his basement but we all knew. The bones
were lying around for anyone and pink lungs
can’t just be put back inside the children.
Girl, I mean, even in bargain mode
no doubt, no resource is ever left for those
left outside the house. For the house
is the start of all gentleness (the basement knows)
and the shoes, no returns, will gentle one
to a bony walk and a hum to prevent
one from. Or there is always
clawing them off and throwing them.
