The Burning Giraffe is just a disease,
walking miles
slowly sacrificing souls that then turn stiff
and refuse to collapse like unwanted slaves.
lingering to be perched on the fields like proper young trees.
Flesh beetling the bones fleeing restriction.

Stretched shrieks from men and women for nauticals
dropping on the hard plated ground like discharged Molotov Cocktails.

Entering a new form
becoming boxes for clothing and diamond jewelry
being protected from the outside

While the outer shells continue to fester
with the sweet mephitis fragrance of liquescent derma.
Once the fuming giraffe sluggishly passes by
with every step.
And hoof prints planted awaiting the next burning giraffe.