Rusted Rabbits At Chariots O'clock
two-dollar antelopes,
do you salty hair snug of midnights wear?
did the sky kill off your misnamed skulking?
it's only chariots o'clock, & already are
the nymphs' bellies torn to make room for
rusted rabbits -- a nest of falling tongues
writhed from due thirst, will you rustle them
to some bounce-soft bed far from nutty words?
I would, but my mouth's woolen from drifting skies
& quite breakfast-frantic
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