Take this house from my body, brick from my bones. There’s my foot under yours. Take it. It will make you rich. Wrap me in your heroic sheet. Cover your face, I’m decomposed. Carry me out. See how I fit inside, how my spine curves to these dirty threads. Oh you can hardly make me out. Oh make me out. Prose me, poem me. Put flesh on these blanketed bones. Bundled, compare me to the stork’s gift. Oh call me rubble, the earth has done worse. Loot me, lyric me. Pick at my bones.