Untitled #11

I laugh at her behind my teeth
keys slide across the desk,
a discordant sound

she pulls and push
her complaints for pity
in long vowel accordance

thin veneers of polished bones
scrape the inside of the cheek

a gravel voice obscured on deaf ears

cut fingers leave blood splatter lines across the door

a dead mouse dies beneath a chair
and I wait for someone from building and grounds
to remove the corpse.

we have lost our religion
beneath our untied shoes
and under our desks.

there is willful ignorance
drowning on the borders
between life and death.

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