Monday, June 13, 2011


Happy Working Song

They make tiny cuts


Here and there
Chest and knees and scapula get marked
A map for them to follow with their
Scarlet hot instruments

They take exquisite care and inch
Your skin downward
Away from your ruby flesh

The hobgoblins sing as they flay their victims
Happy working songs
To cover the whimpers
Of the naked souls
On whom they toil.

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