NaPoWriMo 3: Taxidermist

With lovingly careful hands
I gut dead words
and stuff them full of
foreign meaning
until they resemble
something one could
talk to.

And then I dangle them
bloated
from lines strung up on the side of my house
which faces the street
so they can wink their glass eyes
at passerby.

Poetry finished,
I retreat inside
to eat my fill of
salted meat.