Wölf by Edwin Caudill (art) and Fusiform Gyrus (text)

Wölf

Let me write Candide
across your spine

for the animals

the sun is out
of breath brazen
pommery the sun is

dead internet spake 
her hard tanned 

belly brushing swiftly 

past polyester expanse 
Soffria abseiling naked 
down a scaffold of her face

put the ö in Wölf

her wind-gnarled points
salute the feat


break


peeling back a strip
of prosthetic skin unveils 
slick lissom quem

salve folds thumbed 

reveal some white thing

half-hidden gawking back 

crack lidded eye-form 
below pergola nub sculpt'
rendered by retopology

the sun is futile cardiography
the pupil darts erratically then 
fixes panoptic nerves tethered

reaching to the fleshy toggle 
pulsing occucervic periscope
buried to avert a vainglorious 

sun.