I asked about desire
In this version of my dream, my father quizzes me
with flashcards: What is cytokinesis? What are the stages of mitosis?
I know all the answers, until his animals
sprint from the medicine cabinet:
hallux tearing my temples,
vibrissa smashing my neck.
My mother doesn’t know what time it is.
She turns over and tugs on her eye mask.
Who will save me?
My sister is playing a mean game of jacks.
My sister is pretending father
is the kind man from the store—
the one that gives her a toy
from the discount rack.
There is no one to save me.
I’m free to pretend this is an earthquake drill.
Huddle across metaled sarcophagus.
Please look away—
many-footed canidae are coming
to roister by the carcass out of habit.