Reasonably unsettling considerations
of that feather that slides along and tickles my gut
each time I happen upon your acquaintance
draw me to the realization that something
     is left unsaid.

Perhaps you can help: dip me in the boiling water
of your impacting steam-particle-pelleting questions
as to why I never laughed with you,
lacerate a line with your fine fingernail along my chest
and pluck out my sternum with your penetrating eyes,
puff with faery-breath fire
out that tickling scratching feather
so that finally my ghastly glazed-blue eyes can stare
     and not object.