i think i might have a mole.

my teeth are dug out of their rows.
my tongue is pulled out at the root.

my nails are shriveled up thorns,
my wrists wilted bouquets of bones.

my ribs metal jaws which enclosed
something that bit off its foot.

my skull’s overturned,
seeds spilling out of the neck.

what is a corpse but a flower bed?