It seems to float along our new cold floor,
An eye a yellow eye that writhes and twists
Across glossy metal plates like steel doors,
Silent, sterile knives that never miss.
What – brain cuts – widely
Set apart eyes – is it?
Stuttering dents go by
Curled dry lips – tied to –
Stabs dig down deep
To – flesh – pads –
So let us say they lived content at last:
This image reflected in steel, glass.