In which the Fox and the (Doll) will Remain on the Shelf Until the House is Sold
By Alexander Schmitt

(friend), 

my limbs are longing for 

the way sinews stretch and pull and 

(I’m) desperate to tell you of racing the drag paths 

whisking through deer ferns and 

wild flowers but 

my (immobile) jaw will not speak, (cannot) scream 

my threat-less teeth permanently bared, 

friend, outside where real things 

breath everything is movement, do you know, 

can you (understand) that this static 

is artificial that the way we hold and hold and hold 

is limbo even dead things crawl with worms 

friend I was never still my heart always racing my 

lungs filled and emptied (even) at the end (blood) ran out of me