Did you sense my emergence, good beak,
A gloopy shell dragging egg slime and sand
to the waiting sea.
With clammy innards, I lumbered
under a morose sun while you
pecked my eyes to nourish
your blood disease.
Adieu, good beak, it was mine to
be momentary.

I’m better when you do not

Imagine me an honorable man.

You, with your breeding, your

alpine beauty and pluck,

are symphonically designed.

And I ... nothing better than a rat.

Yesterday -- in Reykjavik -- the wind

Put pink in your porcelain features.

Today, you’ve dressed in assortments:

Flashbulb smiles, bluest silks, and

Embroidered Lotus flowers.

Tomorrow, you’ll forget me.