Joshua Hamilton: Skinning

Rest my head on the memory
of your lap
during the week
of your absence – appetites
and logics enter, mingle.
Only when willed.
Hard, candy-like shell
crystallizes a dome
over slow anguish
intestinal compost.
Hours tempered in rainbow
then drip thin and expose
tire-skidded streaks of gravel.
Skin and sinew tear off,
hunter knife scraping edgewise
flattens evening.
Bleached cranium drops
into cotton folds.

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