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
        et tout en face
always wiggles the perfectly dead
finger of thitherhithering gas.
clothed with a luminous fur
        a Jesus sags
in frolicsome wooden agony).

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