1109

he brushed his cheeks with hair dye,
he was woven by punnet squares,
with shoe polish stuck in his teeth,
and his pupils wearing Iris as a dress.
acid knew no form, nor did
his misplaced organs, they played flutes
made out of bone, and bone marrow
was scraped out of him for pathetic pocket change,

which he kept in a drawer labeled №1065,
for no particular reason:

when poppies grew that season,
and that season took no form,
in a container he would whisk it,
frothy white, white, foam.

in the ocean dwelled the fingers fair,
dirt was hidden under shoe polish
and under shoe polish, his feet.