Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Eaindra

Milled Timber

Hairs
Hands
Legs
All have been chopped, cropped
And dropped on all fours . . .
Fangs
Chainsaws
Spearheads
Ride all over my skin.
I whimper
My lungs out.
In my primal scream
My whines . . . curdle my blood
My meat . . .
Layer by layer
How spiteful . . .
They even collect
Shaves and shreds of
My flesh and blood
For fuel.

Milled Timber

Milled Timber

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Milled Timber

Hairs
Hands
Legs
All have been chopped, cropped
And dropped on all fours . . .
Fangs
Chainsaws
Spearheads
Ride all over my skin.
I whimper
My lungs out.
In my primal scream
My whines . . . curdle my blood
My meat . . .
Layer by layer
How spiteful . . .
They even collect
Shaves and shreds of
My flesh and blood
For fuel.

Milled Timber

Hairs
Hands
Legs
All have been chopped, cropped
And dropped on all fours . . .
Fangs
Chainsaws
Spearheads
Ride all over my skin.
I whimper
My lungs out.
In my primal scream
My whines . . . curdle my blood
My meat . . .
Layer by layer
How spiteful . . .
They even collect
Shaves and shreds of
My flesh and blood
For fuel.
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Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
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VDM
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