What are you now ? Ash, a vine, a portion
left to sleep, crying in your sleep.
They want to take your leg.
Your oximeter chirps behind you, above you
Bandit steals a kiss from the Frog.
We don’t speak.
Neglect is our common tongue. We smoke
and snort our way into the same bed, mother
and son, until one second before the only second
that counts. If the Snowman and Fred could see us
from the TV on the wall, they’d choke and chew
each other to the bone. We can win any race
where you have to beg to finish.