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the crow turns her head
around
bending
until she don’t think
about it

passed out in the haze
that’s good to me
well the choir
came in
with bread and blood
between their ragged teeth

danced up
down my bones
and my lonely lips
now
then perched on my arm
a little sliver
of ink
just sinking into me

and yes
okay
I know how to refuse
but I croon and
fix my mane
until it’s parody

listen to those
drunken boys sing

I can name
all my names and my fathers’
too