A baby doll. Face speckled with dust.
Even his frown cornered with some freckle
of dry mud, he calls to leopards
spotted and powerful, the tight mound
of their shoulders meeting their knecks,
flexing, arching, bending to feed or
sink the claws into the damp mounds
of jungle, scratching away the deep brown clumps
until the earth moves, fresh and clotted,
gives up, pudgy and glazed, some doll head glazed
with dirt. ....
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