my spine curves inward and outward like the horizon of a burial mound
if I stand up straight you might clock the little girl that's buried there

lash out, miniscule inferno
making his way through the forest as fire burns beneath his tiny feet

only a few leaves and twigs will catch
only a frog or two will perish

still, what a bother to clean up

I try to act natural, try to blink like a human might do
but I can't help but check, check, check
the TV is off, the computer is off, the plug socket is on

where is that sound coming from?

his exhausted hunch, his purpling heart, his bullet shocked head
he picks the shells off the floor and kisses them
he throws them in the air and dances with them
he lies with them like a great beast would

he lost his life first day of the somme;
his medals worth no more than their weight

he cracks the bullets open like a rat underfoot
and he creates, he paints and he sings
and he could have really been something if God had saved him

"There will surly be a place for you," a wise old woman said
"Not on god's green earth, only in heaven above, will there be a place for you."

The dog barks at the mailman, some school kids catch the bus, the sun goes up before going down

A spider climbs across the mirror and she doesn't know the shape of a human being

The dog settles down in his bed, the kids walk home together sweet treats in hand, the lesser stars start to love themselves

The spider got whacked by a hardback book and she doesn't know what a human is