Lies We Have to Believe

the rat nudges the trap. testing the sensitivity of death. the friction whispers kinetic. ripe with waning drugs. curious with fatal prizes.

the silence stabs with its blunt instruments. eyes like atoms. fierce explosions too small to judge. the frail of her decisions painfully transparent. tiny ants with big stones on their backs. travelling home on pencil legs.

the stretch iodine as the infection persists unabated. bleating lambs peer into the mouth of the lion. Wondering which fang is nearest.

the covet of conjecture. as it fills her empty dress with legs. distance finds itself in her. the density of touch. the frozen stutter of clumsy flesh. as it reaches into empty cages.