Vernissage

(i.)

If what you want’s a vulgarity

of gore, I’ll give you my open-heart

 

(ii.)

surgery. Ribs fractured, a snow-

on-crimson scarlet ibis wing-drying

 

(iii.)

in the insatiable sun of the medical lamp.

 

(iv.)

What is and isn’t

for sale: red-breasted

 

(v.)

organs and portraits, whatever I do

you’re going to take it—

 

(vi.)…

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