I awaken to find my brain
sitting on the kitchen counter:
a grey fruit
cut into neat sections.
I cough and a black dog
snarls out of my throat,
pauses on my tongue, panting,
peers through the cage of my
half-open teeth, squirms through,
pounces down, and settles on the floor
at my feet.
Soldiers lie in my chest,
gassed. They’re tired
of wallowing
in mud like tree stumps.
They’re ready for burial.
