Rat Exploited
There is space, an orangey sort of large space,
That makes one wonder where his teeth had gone.
Stuck on the elm, pulled out by the dentist,
Swallowed by the hollow sun.
And on it a piece of ivory, sharp to points like a dream.
It cannot retrieve itself, for the sun would fall,
To pieces as it had come
The wild geese and gun barrel,
Down the slivers of the late autumn night-
How one carries the sun!
The little one needs its teeth,
But does the galaxy need it more?
The rat would gladly give its incisors to the
Woman who had yet to arrive, tripping over her misconduct,
Glass slippers Showered in poison dust,
A prince is of no matter here, for
Who deserves more than the sun?
Copyright © Amy Zhao | Year Posted 2019
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