Rag’n’bone, rattlin’ down the alley, moon in your teeth,
tin-can heartbeat, click-clack sorrow.
I stole your shadow, wore it like a coat of matches,
struck myself alight on the echo of your laugh.
Hounds of tomorrow howl through my ribs,
but your whistle still hangs in the smoke—
a rusty nail, a lullaby, a curse.
Dance, rag’n’bone, dance on the needle’s eye;
we’ll bury tomorrow in yesterday’s shoebox,
and spit champagne at the dawn.