where are you
wobbling—cap off
and tum fat, the sum
of grain? did the rain come
slapping at your itchy head
in jealous drops and scare you
once again? tell me, as you wiggle
by the piggles snorting in the barn,
tell me, little yarn and button-eyes:
did the crows come and pick at you
like mutton, scratch your fat bum,
stomp you with twitchy claws
and hollow out your brain?
and when they’d finished
chomping it, were you
just the same?