the reaping of a certain degree

/Pastels draw their furrows in flesh
/My hair gives, the strands will part
/I shed profusely and stand on one leg
/After you will ream a plucked chicken
/       like you reamed me
/There are hard lumps of butter that swim
/       congealing muscles injected under the skin
/       I who makes waves in a sea of white
/       Who floats in this sea of me?
/Length is a heavy warm
/       the limbs are browner in sheets
/       under covers, thrashing has no shape, save round
/       Hair, in the light, is brown
/The strands will part, my hair gives
/I am carved and moulded and slicked-up with moist
/Gather ’round.
/Come look.