I.

onyx clouds
wrest cattle

from the land.

Bones sleep
deep under
seedling-

eyes. She rubs

cold oil
on arms:
yellow skin

electric

in flames

deep within
your belly.

cleaving sky, cleaving sky

Our sea
irradiates aqua
grass-light.

Water swallows you:

drowns you in
sea-moss

necklace-slivers.

II.

waves empty tears:
        seascape of

illness and widowed
moons. In the space

between your tongue
and the closed
flesh of

seedling eyes

tribes of neurons
weave words through

echolocation.

This is the precision of animal language.

Yellow skin
doubles color
doubles sleep

dyes color

into endings
full of flash

flame movements.

III.

in waver-light
      tomorrow
bone sleeps

grows deep

within a wilderness
of sea-scalp and

finger-grain

born in
a womb

language dismantled.

                             Electric seedlings
double in shallow suns.

IV.

when lips go
gone. Space opens

to air
around and
around you.

Pillows tip tongues:
a window.

A field for feet

sun-fries cassava-eyes
empty of

instruments gauging

distance

between plurals.  Double of
sea double of

sky. Irradiate green ribs
and brown bellies:

an electric heart

deep under
yellow skin.

V.

deep within
cotton-glass. You

emerge from
waver-light. You

build a torso
made of iron. You

dangle into
the ground. You

startle at
seedling sounds. You

conspire with cassava
merchants. You

build enormous
temples of possibility.

You paralyze.

__

I derived the title of this poem, which should be read as the first line of each section, from Hadara Bar-Nadav's poem "Birds of Prey," which contains the passage 'and you'll wear a fox in place/ of your throat.' The conceptual-germination of this poem stemmed from my exploration of Deleuze and Guattari's concept of becoming-(animal/imperceptible).