this dies with me. It’s in a bottle. It’s
buried with them. It’s on the tongues
of those that heard it, and swore

not to tell. A man took an oath. It smelled
like rotten eggs and company that you can’t
kick out, and takes up all the

space in the house. They’re
banging on the walls. They’ve broken
your toy. They’ve scratched your

eyes out. You don’t see them now. But
they are hiding in your deformity. The doctors
labeled it, as doctors do.