lyric in which the only direct object is the body
by jamison crabtree

We slices tree like they saddest cake,
breaks toothpick to makes smaller
toothpicks; breaks egg to makes shells.

Puts a cross in they dome, I say. I tells you, there,
in all earnest: I donst know want so I makes this promise:

I will stab yr heart to splinter.

Hear they knothole wind
cog ups they trees all night long;
chatters chatter metal. Today,

to everyone who ask you they time
just say it with stare; or here,

plain: snubs them to show what’s what.

We practices desire and affectation like they smug marble busts;

they bucket butted princes of industry,
of war, who clutter up they park and office alike

with their stiff limbs and hollow pupils to help us feels seen.

They statue looks polished as sin.

Everyday at three its all rain and they thunder,
the heart

is all prisoned up in bone and that’s what they calls protected;
but they thunder,

it whisper sweet softs, you think woods
crack down bone no, ain’t no heart ever split

like kindling. Listen to my balloonsong.
My collapsed whine stretched unimaginably.

This voice that gost fractured, straights up the throat.