Of skin, A flap like a hat, Dead white. Then that red plush.
Little pilgrim, The Indian's axed your scalp. Your turkey wattle Carpet rolls
Straight from the heart. I step on it, Clutching my bottle Of pink fizz.
A celebration, this is. Out of a gap A million soldiers run, Redcoats, every one.
Whose side are they on? O my Homunculus, I am ill. I have taken a pill to kill
The thin Papery feeling. Saboteur, Kamikaze man---
The stain on your Gauze Ku Klux Klan Babushka Darkens and tarnishes and when
The balled Pulp of your heart Confronts its small Mill of silence
How you Jump--- Trepanned veteran, Dirty girl, Thumb stump.