R O N S O N O L  fingers grasp
Bindings like
A wet beast’s gum-saw upon the last breaths
Of a slow thing’s tender partition between sky and
Lung


Lest the prey not be mistaken

Lest extinction be a fetish worn like cruel pendants upon the uninsignia-ed

Lest fear not be politic-ed to the
Hacking of hands holding hacks to our
Own

                        Claw
           While you still have
                     Claws to
                    Claw with