This is what they did then,
following the bay, the laugh —
Sharp teeth at your gut.
You
remembered about pack dynamics.
Broke down on stony ground.
You are a rabbit
so shh,
shh, be still.
fern-frond curled.
limp
unliving.
They put you in a tree throw.
It doesn’t matter
If the rooks call out
about soil in your eyes.
Weeds root in it anyway.
Mushrooms still grow in the
hollows of your body.
So drag the weasel-fur of you
over thorns
push your skin through holes
in another underground.
Pull out hemlock tongue with
bone-tipped claw.
Choke them with nettles.
grow brambles in ribcages other than your own.