chris butler, two poems

stone man

A skeleton statue,
his veins pump
wet cement,
churned by his
horsepower heart.

Bones ossify
and frame
extra maxilla
around his
living tissues,

as he is sculpted
from the outside in.


I am no body.
I’m just a head
floating around
in spite of physics
and gravitational
feeling the tingling
of a phantom body,
until I become
a somebody
with nobody.

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