I cut the wires from his dead fingers
And wrap them around my own
To detangle, arrange, all alone.
Careful, I step to where the pain lingers.
Your chest laid bare, breath barely there,
Your skin covered in a cold sweat
From the tears, to the shakes, dirty hair–
Your skin pale from the blood-let.
I tut, and put you back into place.
Wire by wire, string by string.
I know the panic and fear on your face
So I smile, and a lullaby I sing.
The only dancing you shall dance here on
Will be your own wires, strings, and song.
Toro Tokuda 