twos bend over the back of hard labor
nines slit their wrists over the kitchen counter
Threes are serial injectors, stealing catharsis as trophies
Fives claw, lungs scoured clean
Fours scream black and bloody against the electric sizzle of
bare cattleprods
Ones smoke cigarettes calmly, on the curb,
waiting
and sixes provide cannon fodder,
ashing the cache of science
