I am giving away pieces of myself outside
A bus terminal when an old woman
Asks, Do you know how dangerous that is?
The birds peck out my eyes for free
A cabbie collects my baguette legs like
A Parisian baker on the run
No one wants my ears—too big!
A homeless man dips my
Dismembered fingers in a jar of hot mustard
Before nibbling on the knuckles
Last to go is—you guessed it—
Black as night
Blood pooling in your palms
As you grin like a greedy clown
Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State, an editor at the online magazine Literary Orphans, and the author of I’m Not Supposed to Be Here and Neither Are You, out now from Unknown Press. You can also find him at http://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.