Deference bows the body
Servility is bad posture

Yes, you left it here
                                   O dear
                                            Can u keep it for me or will you
                                            smerk it?
I don’t smerk. I’ll kerp it.

Listen to yourself/who’s there
_;            who                 -

Take it from here/ I’ve grown used to it. It’s a burial site.
The dead chatter, round the roots of the yew trees, and the white stone
in the soil. Planted. Old habits die hard. Drifting
on the other side, haunting the air like smoke.

It still means something to the people. Inside their hearts
wriggling. ffffffffffffffffffffffffffff it sucks the air out of me.
Operational serfdom in all but name, the groove cut deep-
You don’t know you’re doing it, but you do.
What is a people? A way of doing things. It declares itself
in the droop of your shoulders, in the curvature
of your spine. It’s bent the bones of you, it’s written
all over your face. Servant caste. A larval world, downstairs.
Intrinsic. A system of relationships holds, despite the disappearance
of the old infrastructure. Who owns it?

Listen to yourself/who’s there
_;            who                 -

Dig it out. Voices various police. They say hold back. Arrest
this moment. Terror. The truth is cruel in laughter. Hardness
is the thing. We bump into it. The city limits. The margin of us
so far, and no further. Tantalising. We can always see further
than our feet can take us.
It’s so beautiful outside.

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