Let’s sell these things
on a street corner somewhere
looking far too innocent, with raised eyebrows and lids
open wide, and the hint of a smile
hanging around the edges
of our lips
Let’s open our coats and offer them,
hanging there from rusted hooks
ten for a penny, twelve for a dollar
buy one get one free
Fingers torn off with the tendons rough and bare,
tongues sliced away, dripping blood and insolence
eyeballs carved out carefully
with the sharpened edge of a spoon-
if you peer inside, you might see the thing
that made you raise the blade.
Let’s sell these things, pressed between the pages of a journal
long-since burnt
scribbled onto dirty palms
professionally bound
and sent out from a factory
like underwear, or paint.
Let’s sell these things, perched up
on a barstool
sneakers kicking air
face too far from the microphone
whisper, shout, silence, sing
Let’s sell these things
and count the coins
let them go without regret
let them land on someone else to hold,
and earn back what they stole.