too small, warm,
       foetal things, curled infant thumbs

pink and black beneath fur,
       i fear you,
       i feel pain sometimes
        (the tips of my teeth ache)
       i am soon to die

a piece of mold-bread or dry,
hard cheese:

“vermin”, or “pest”; you
exterminate; i hold on—
unrepenting, breeding, i am just like you
i am immortal,
multitudes surging beneath Lhasa and Vatican
and Calgary, even

i am— you
unknow it—among you,
unseen, i
feel death between my
ribs and tailbones,
                     feed and breed and hide and sleep and
                     feed and—

       carry plagues on my back;
       virus, bacteria in my saliva, in my muscle—
       forget me drowning in
underground rivers of shit?


i will take
your child’s face away
away from you
at night

— Montreal, 1999

February 10, 2012

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