the bed is not very big
 
a sufficient pillow shoveling
her small manure-shaped head
 
one sheet on which distinctly wags
 
at times the weary twig
of a neckless nudity
(very occasionally budding
 
a flabby algebraic odour
 
jigs
        et tout en face
always wiggles the perfectly dead
finger of thitherhithering gas.
 
clothed with a luminous fur
 
poilu
 
        a Jesus sags
in frolicsome wooden agony).

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