Pith

Hack a path through the fields of never-ending 
ever-growing rodent teeth 
swerve to avoid the carnal resting-place 
hidden in the tall grass 
tiger trap scattered straw grown 
damp with sweat pressed flat 
the underside of every leaf teems with secret appetites 
squint through a lens of dew to peep 
on teenaged girls posed cross-legged on the frilly bed
reading encyclopedias and almanacs 
waiting for the dye to frizzle their scalps 
distraction swivels your head in the grimy dusk behind you 
just in time to catch the egg-sac delivery truck
belching black clouds of exhaust 
the lights click on in the store selling neckties printed 
with kachina dolls and totem poles
a metal cup hits the wooden floor with a thunk
the park is still unlit at dusk 
still crowded with bronze statues of parasites 
I crouch walk hunched over using a pine limb 
to scuffle my tracks behind me I waddle 
into a tiny cabin made of toothpicks and sparrow bones 
behind the outhouse a tall man throws 
his loose-jointed limbs out across the crevasses 
leaps our of focus over chasms and ravines
his starched white shirt splotched 
with scabs of various liquids long since dried my glasses slip 
from my face and plunge down the well 
where they get stepped on by the barefoot child 
who lives at the bottom 
the plushest moss covers the hardest stone 
I finger a pin for each of your eyes 
a pickaxe scraping at pockets of cartilage
your last thought stumbling down the hill 
flung along the path of ever-growing rodent teeth 
curved chisels gnawing tunnels 
through the marrow of your mammoth bones 
narrow passages flanked by guardian worms 
and splinters flinging open those unhinged doors
those uselessly flapping gums
those creaking gulls