Slicer Glory

**Please note this poem was written by Jespah Lara Ramos.

the cubes are still
living of split-cleared stems,
the graving slings hinge,
and no one remembers
my dog.

i've been a long way off the bones
and there is no slicer glory left,
save the plague to dream
of serpent sleep.

the dice are rolled
as my feet bleed to dusk
and the name sings praise,
and my astral lungs converge,
and the secants in my eyes
are of no value.

and no one remembers
my dog.