in pieces, you shatter
as brains splattered from
the shot of a gun. Your insides
spill out like a puzzle, in red

blue, and yellow. You lay in
your waste as a baby in a day-old
diaper. Crawling out your head
a two-foot viper. Your limbs

unhitched, when only before they
held on by a stitch. Your eyes rolled
back. But the whites are not white. They're
stained satin black. And none of

the king's horses or the king's
men can put back your pieces together
again.