stuffed animals

i want to protect 
all the stuffed animals
from being alive. 

yesterday we were at the mall
& there was a bin full of
them, i lifted
them up one by one like
a bin of infants, all soft
& squirming. 

dinosaurs & rabbits.
unicorns & pomeranians. 
i know that it's odd for 
a 22 year old man
to care so much about them,

whispering to each clothe body 
i will take care of
you if you let me. 

i slept with 
my stuffed bear each day 
last year accept for 
the nights that i replaced  
him with a random body,
boy & girls & humans 
all flesh & fingers. 

the bear would get jealous 
& come alive
& i would have to chase him
down, begging him to not
be alive, telling him
that it's better to be quiet & 
full of stuffing. 

we'd drain out the blood 
& drop his heart in 
the waste basket & i'd
sew him back up, washing
the blood off in the bathroom sink.

when i was little
i would cut them all open,
all of my animals, 
the red bull, the ostrich,
the manatee. i wanted to
check that they hadn't 
snuck into a life without me.

occasionally i would
have to pull out the veins
& every once in awhile
a kidney, a liver, a stomach
full of rainbow sprinkles.

i tell you to be careful
when you set my bear down,
the prop him up nice
& you do even though
you don't understand.

when you're asleep i
cradle my bear into the bathroom
to check him for signs 
of life. i say
i love you 
i love you

& i cut him back open
always along the same seam.
i pluck & swallow a handful 
of stuffing like a spoon
of mashed potatoes. 
i take out a rib-bone.

as the stuffing goes
down my throat
i see all the images 
that my bear sees,
the stillness
the sun juggling 
out the window, 
each day
stirring.

i thank him for this
& he asks to keep  
the rib. i tell
him no.