by Patrick Hannon
Toss a stone into the siphon
and feed the growth
and lay in the muck.
Spread out with hands and heels.
Focus,
on the mouths,
unintended.
Lying, wondering
how it will be post-mortem.
Hands locked in the cut of your chest
or separate;
like a textbook diagram.
A heap somewhere.
Idle.
A man;
gripped in a glass jaw.
Pissing and shoving.
“Sign language”
in the gripping silence.