A Thing

As it stared into the sun

It shrunk and struck it's pupils numb

The finest lines hued loud and green

It didn't mind, it howled and dreamed

It's lashes curled back, singed and soft

It laughed and laughed in fizzled coughs

And tipped it's hat into a toss

It wished and spat as it flew off

Then twitched and gagged an acid broth 

And fixed it's hands into a trough 

It dripped it's tongue and bared black teeth

As cracks between it's fingers leaked

A patch of grass collapsed and steamed

A mist that beaded like a cream

Upon the feet of it (this thing

That winked and heaved and should be hanged

That steeped like tea in fevered stains)

It creaked it's knees and teased it's mane

That bleached and tangled as it bathed

And strangled at it's throat with strays

That waved like wheat below it's face

Which braised like beets aglow in mace

It's raisin cheeks enclosed a taste

And stink that rose within it's waist

Of scraping bones and splitting veins

Escaping moments slipped it's brain

As trace explosions licked it's legs

It paced and posed, and picked it's grave

Then laid it's clothes in fit display

To baste it's shoulders with the rays

That sprayed by day to smolder things

Who hold their gaze and should be hanged