Hems are, fixed on whims

chins up with the eyes ahead;

passersby given threads

to rebel, are repelled.


Did put the mirrors in

a shape, graffitied all the floor

the cracks between them said:

knowing the truth won't make you less

mind-poor, seized cor-

-ridors, for the doors.


Chins up, eyes ahead;

chests clean at the core,

caving, in the heads

how the syllables are spelled.