Unmake a Name

Go out to your father’s workshop

on a wintry night, pull

the old letter

shapes from

your brain

your face

your arms

your heart

your legs

your dirt

your hair

your pants

your skin

your shirt

your ugly

dance your

mission your

misery-hate

and your woes

and your smiles

and your horrors

and your balls and

yer boils and hand them

all to your father’s dour ghost

to hammer and strip and disfigure

and stain and then go inside and make

some soup. You’ll need it. This will take time.

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