I understand the wide-eyed
need to sort and arrange them
in order from weakest to last
one standing, but have you
ever thought about their needs,
a tender neck transformed into
a bar of gold by the full moon’s
reflective seduction, a thrilling
hunt along Lombard Street’s
rolling hills, have you ever even
considered that such primacy
is nobody’s idea of a prize save
for you, that maybe it would be
the greatest treasure of all to lose,
yes, be freed from the living death
of pop culture and puppet strings?