black blood is on the move

the ice the ice is blue
velveteen rabbits, guinea pigs and parties for everyone where you now live let's cheer
can you see me?

over the deepest water some perch on metal made from oil and fear
and here
we slaughter sharks because they frighten our loins
a five letter word with alphabets of wisdom and beautiful blindness
skin stretching over the earth, veins, arteries in and out
over its crevices of waiting, wandering, wondering, watching

all of us are sheltering from the outlandish stupidity of now

Dana holds the guinea pig with the Elvis quiff in her right hand and sniffs. Sleet drips across its fur. She reaches into her pocket for her penknife and removes its left eye from the socket, and then the right. Black blood is on the move. She wraps her scarf around the lifeless rodent's head and drinks in how easy it is not to see sight, feeling, promise.

'Can you see me now?' she asks the guinea pig. 'Can you see parites and fun and suggles and running around in circles? Do you ever close your eyes and watch me?'

The animal stays still. But the frozen berries of blood are so pretty against the snow, so pretty that she whispers, 'I'm still wearing your ring. And once, just one time, I believed you were here. And yet, you never showed up.'