When you were young you swallowed a handful
of pills and walked outside to see
about the banquet. You didn’t think there’d ever be
a way to live inside the world.
You fell. You heard a distant voice approaching,
as if from the opposite end of a tunnel.
They found you, pale and wet
as a newborn rat.
They slid their hands into your mouth,
a horseless bit.
You said nothing. The cord that tied you
to that place was quickly cut.
What clean hands you’d had.
What long hair.