Concrete Poem



Spiraling
The chickens hop in a line
Circling around my frontal lobe
The crowd parts into two
One for each eye
The chickens walk down the caruncle
Like a staircase
Their pointed feet poking at my eyelids
The burrow into my eye
Behind the skull
Then lay their eggs in my brain
They make a nest of the pink crevices
They peck their beaks into the flesh
Sending a signal down my spine
It pinpricks my neck
Awakens my gut
The eggs hatch
The cycle starts again

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