the body deflects steps one foot out of itself

hip, thigh and slides towards a slouching

everything, now following hands.  not fucking

not even touching, though i’ve heard rumor

of breath on flesh.  out, out skin.  the sun also

kicks down beneath the ground.

         i am this.

         a sack

of bones and sand and soles shredded by wind.

         i am

this.  tracked by sky, vultures, flesh raked

over rock.  deader than indians.  deader than

gods.  i see you, crazy horse, shackled,

spinning like a madman.  one last sun setting

down another splintered spine.