There’s a body in the basement
and a head upon the floor
and two arms in different cupboards
and some fingers in the drawer.
There’s an eyeball on the surface
looking down upon the teeth
that somehow escaped from the sink
and clambered underneath.
There’s a heart that’s fast a-beating
and a brain that’s running wild,
attending every meeting
with the bare face of a child.
And if you should ever come across
two legs in isolation,
please apprehend immediately,
and take them to the Station.
I am with you now
fingers pushing against your bones
weaving and knotting vibrant fibres
through and over your cortex hills
pressing your chin wrinkling your cheeks
cascading through valleys
of intense dreaming.
I do not see you.
As I surface, you shrink away,
diluted by functionality.
You are cayenne pepper, nettles:
Crawling, turning, I snatch at nought
and wait for darkness.