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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Taylor Franson-Thiel


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Tyrant Lizard King

My brother taps a claw to my stomach and says
getting chubby huh? and I am all prey,
all hadrosaur, all fleshy open parts inviting bite
and slash. He walks away, pausing to flex
his bone crushing head in a mirror and pick
my flesh from his teeth. This puncture and pull
game he plays where he opens wide and bites
at weakness while I pretend it's humor and not
a tomb. The dark awl of my need for him to love
me. His talons, crowns of coal at my neck.
My body, doing nothing, fuel for him to deploy
his predatory prowess. I plead for him
to swallow me quickly, leave the bones behind.