From the lips of a mask,
powdered with human skin,
the roll-call of the slaughtered barbarians.
Descending stiff-necked,
rod-backed to regions of
wondrous deep unhappiness.
Bird bones screwed through
nipples, featherweight tug
to mark one out as mortal.
Sly as marsh-cat,
coarse as unmilked cotton,
bowing when the shadow turned.