Backlit by fire, nameless, famous
all that talk weaves a conjured up mess
with no body to speak of (nobody)
reading the headlines and inhaling
until the last breath
Bones wrapped in silk
for a pretty box the bowl of brain
and these stories (empty rooms)
anticlimactic or ordinary
the gift of nobody who
Any Bob or Joe or Johnny any
body the accidental physics of the throat
but this is history this voice (box)
won't you help to sing
this gentle coffin this song
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