Way of Papyrus

bible toilet

Find me by the hours, the ones

you’ve slept through, in the jokes you missed

and graffiti paid no mind, in the fungus of books,

the parchment gone the way of papyrus, and the long view

doctors might’ve mentioned that day

you were born.

 

Look for me by the rusted car parts, husks of steel beetles,

no sinew. I’ll be scraping the cuticles, the charcuterie

down to slivers of tungsten, while batteries

turn since there are other

ways to pay.

 

Catch me, toasting by the post office, emptied of letters,

stuffed to the windows with pigeons past

their carrion point, hollow bones

won’t ship ground

nor express.

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