i broke two necks tonight, because
chicken soup doesn't make itself.
i snapped bobbing necks with pitiful
flaps of skin beneath pointed beaky chins,
scrawny, feathered twigs. you
halved sticks with fingers that were vices
stripped them naked, pale
brown wood, shivering under your fingerprints.
i am not noticing this anymore. chicken
necks are starting to feel like twigs. snap
snap snap