Eyes of the Word

The eyes of the word
are staring right at me
as if to ask the poisoned mouse:
what have I done that you wouldn't?

Let me out of your sleeve, I say,
if that's what you want from me.
A card trick. A shark doing the splits
on camera, for the first time.

Sometimes, there's nothing left to say besides
sometimes, there's nothing left.

That's a game I've played before.

Chickory, spun boys on parade. I won't
snow on your parade, snaggle-tooth in
your party. Looking like a little lady more than ever
these days. I'm not hungover but I'm probably
hung. I could be at least.