That man was a beast too small to skin,
the kind to get caught between curb and heel.
To be blurred by a thumb somewhere—
to have a clay pipe shook out on his picture.
He wracked his brain now to the fore and aft,
and how to get out of this hole, or rather,
how to be pulled from this hole?
Someone had cut all the clothes from his body,
someone had stolen the key to his door—
he could not stiffen his shoulder enough
to batter his body through it.
I wished he was flatter, or that he
would flatter my heart enough to help it;
or that he was so exceedingly flat
I could file him wholly out of place.
-2002
