Khara Ellasante

the grand dole

pin a scrap from your
hoard to my mouth
tell me this is mine

let it sift any risings     of my voice
so that what strains past
will be only whispers

bleats and groans
trade me        my hunger
for my coffin    snapping at my heels

tell me this is mine
read me to me:    my skin as side effect
                            my blood as by-product

lick your lips       tell me i am in luck
do not guard me
like luxury   patrol me

like a thief
bolt down the lamp
bolt down the evening
bolt down the night