It stalks around the house, muttering through doorcracks,
And smiling emptily like a plastic thing while its
Sick shriveled eyes roll in its skull, searching for something
To bite the head off of with yellow, grinning teeth.
No one else is allowed one: brain, ears, tongue . . .  
Dangerous things that dig up questions like worms.
No heads for you.
It is Head.
Head is it.