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作曲 : Lucas Lanthier |
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Evenings with mother tend to be discouraging. |
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I always end up bruised |
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Evenings with father frighten me. |
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All the animals will come to see where I’ve been abused |
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With bars of fragile bone and teeth |
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I enclose a hundred birds and beasts. |
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We sway and swoon |
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At night they howl and scream at me. |
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They would all much rather be set free beneath the dull |
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Throbbing light of a blue-black moon |
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|
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One upon my thigh has wings. |
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He flies and sings. |
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His face is purple |
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Watch me twist my mouth in pain; |
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I’ve sat upon some beast again |
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Twice since Thursday I’ve sat bleeding out upon the back step, reading apparently |
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I have the only broken-skin menagerie |
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|
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Eyes and gills distinguish certain crimson epidermal oceans |
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Sunlight on my skin is dim and withered; in my zoo it’s night |
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|
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There’s a flock upon my back, |
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their beaks are long and cruel and black |
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They preen and flap with ruined capillaries; |
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Yes, there’s blood, in fact |
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One around my throat makes sound. |
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He screams against gray, early morning |
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Red and bending, never ending... |
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He’s some sort of snake, I’ve found |
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|
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And eight legged toads and lambies in rows and pink-kitten circles of lilies and roses... |
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An ant-farm awry under lavender skies... |
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All of this smeared on my thin-beaten skin |
