till my stuffing leaked
out. There was less of me
inside of my clothes than
in billowing clouds outside

exposed. Then he pulled
my silk threads with his teeth till they
broke. I looked like a scarecrow,
part of his joke. But he too

unraveled. I thought he was
rock. His shoes and socks
gravel, the size of a pea worn down
by years that he traveled. The sort

that gets wedged in-
between painted crimson
toes. A proxy, is he wearing
emperor clothes.