stuffed animals on her bed

like prisoners
arranged for a firing squad.
the killing wall ever at our backs.
 
but that's not what i remember.
 
that thing in the sky?
i'm told it's the sun.
that i just can't recognize it right now.
that it'll fill this room  
someday.
 
cleanse the contact points,
apply the solder.  
simple,
 
only
 
i'm not good at connecting things.
 
like a smile.
 
i don't know what it means
when she smiles.
 
i don't know.
 
hear a crack of thunder
and they all fall down.
 
just a pollock work in their wake.  
 
spatter on the the killing wall...
 
a row
of false animals.
 
that's what i remember.
that's what this must be about