The Demand That I Know I Am

“Throw off your meat and prey with me,”
Says the thief cutting a corner
Off of the city blocking the
Notoriety sojourners
Seek. Each de-livered memory
Regenerates anew former
Fragments each outgrew; scenery stolen
By deceit seen suddenly as true when

Knowing otherwise won’t (un)do.
Flesh thrown the thigh’s way feels highly
Flammable; stripped leather shed to
Light the handful of wits dryly
Kindling unwritten sherds into
Verbs they’ll regret. Moved finally
From the bottom shelf into butchers’ hands;
They crave the demand that I know I am.