Impossible angles don’t belong in the body of a thing
…
Whatever it was, looking,
as it did, like an over-angular dinosaur
or a hypergeometric alien—
an interloper from a
dimension composed
entirely of corners—
it was dead.
…
The four-wheel-drive’s spotlight transfixed the
creature sprawled on the shattered earth and
yet, somehow, it carried in its stillness a buzzing
restlessness, as though death itself were just a state,
like sleep, that it could rouse from, or an
intrusion that would flee from,
but always be caught by,
those talons that,
just now
…
twitched.
…
You might also like the recursive knot piece Gordian Knot or the mythic labour piece The Sun
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