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Shall I compare thee to a slack-jawed moose?
A tundra beast whose brain conceives no law
beyond the skull's dimensions, an obtuse
and noble remnant of an age too raw
and vital for the likes of modern eyes,
the eyes too weak to see this sharpened knife
dissevering your torso from what lies
beneath. But dignity well known in life
will fail to save you from a death now spent
adorning brick above my fire and logs.
A creature bred for vigor never meant
to hang immobile over sleeping dogs.
But brief and dashing lives all lived through skin
must compensate for hallow space within.