yesterday I saw a ripped out dick
on a screenshot
dusted with dry earth
all alone in an open field
among human tatters
I saw a strip of face
a good few legs
and also how they were taking the scalp
off a man, still alive
this was in a rather brutal western
called scalps
an example of honest and informative naming
there was a scene
where they pierced a dude’s nipples
with hooks
then tied one end of a rope to these hooks
and the other to a horse
and let it run into the desert
then facebook deleted one of my texts
maybe
the word combination
fucking
moskali
die
bitches
did not seem militant enough
to facebook
in these harsh times
what to do
war is war
dick ripped off for one
text deleted for another
everyone keeps the score
of their individual losses
their own personal blacklist
for future reconstruction and revenge
right now on my list
there’s nothing of note
no wounds
not even any decent psychological trauma
though actually, today at the corner store, they ran out of vanilla doughnuts and I had to buy chocolate
nothing to be done about that, that’s war
the moskali can’t be envied at all
no sugar
no pads
president’s a dickhead
and the rest of them too
fragmented
moskal-meat
evenly blankets
fertile Ukrainian fields
still, the tribunal is soon
you can live in a clean cell
go to a toilet that isn’t outdoors
no bears
the Native Americans believed
that the souls of the deceased
continue to live in their hair
hence the theme with scalps
and burning books
the women of Carthage
donated their braids
to the armed forces
and I myself
haven’t cut my hair since the start of the war,
so that the soul doesn’t have to cram
itself into a lame undercut,
if, say, suddenly,
something I need gets ripped off
or facebook
deletes another text
