Aboriginal Anemia

You sit watching your brother die 'cause he chewed on

sickly rabbit. Poor boy Parzifal likes to hunt his

sister, and so infection sets in like a gang of wolves

licking at the heels of the anemic aboriginal hunting

grounds, where you sprain your thumb throwing rocks at

cadavers. Bashing in my weakened knees, bashing in my

weakened knees...

Animal people scale the walls so easily: your bitter

family! Holding court without your cousin, rectify your

viral sanction. Anxious ears solicit thee, my snarling

spies sit down to tea and ignore the bubbling sores that

swell and spit along your backbone!

Call your general, fortify his skin so my disease can't

penetrate your china shack of ignorance and purple

turbans! Split the bread between your chins, annihilate

bacteria! Eating, breeding serfs and peasants, bloody

plague-boys stealing crumbs! Bashing in my weakened

knees, bashing in my weakened knees...

Stripling arrows ricochet off teeth and crystal nighttime

goblets. Dinner party, dinner guests, eat their dinners

facing west. You fling your curses forth and they are

swallowed by the Masque, by the trees, by the hollow

oddities! Bashing in my weakened knees, bashing in my

weakened knees