†axidermy

i am laid out on a table, they
are removing the guts
of me like a stretched pig, a
nail in each hoof on a
plank crucified

skinned along the bones, a
map stolen from the body, a
displaced geography of flesh

there is no stench, formaldehyde
painted and bathed, not
allowed to be dead or devout

there are no eyes, the
sockets scooped out, hollowed, replaced with
glass that is cold and non-sensing and

when they are done, i
am displayed like a trophy tabled
and dusty, dully reflecting the glances of
hunters and thieves, i

am a husk and a hole stuffed with
invasive hands, plugged with
foreign substance

i am not my own