Slap rubbery eyelids shut. Burrow beneath a blanket of grimy leaves, lying motionless in the tangle of brambles at the base of the charred oak. Do not scratch the bugs in the beard or pluck the lice that squirms on the scalp. Let the fleas hide between the folds of skin. An umbrella’s collapsed ribcage shoved beneath an armpit, duck tape shoes squeeze swollen toes. In the pocket, rubber bands bind a deck of cards with the black suits removed. Munch on a salad of thistle, sedge, broom. Chew that food with a mouthful of sticks instead of teeth, lick those lips with a stuffed sock tongue. Remain clothed to wallow in the streams that wind sluggishly through these woods. Clinking strings of metal pull tabs around the neck. Ferns and moss sprout from various cracks and orifices. Crotch slippery with rubbery fungus. Branches covered in dried paste that peels and hangs like strips of snakeskin. Furry stumps teeming with wet grubs. Flex knuckles plastered with mud that cracks and crumbles. There are no tracks in the mud, just an occasional raw notch in the bark where antlers were rubbed. A rustle and scamper between the trees. Feathers slapped against a bush, billowing clouds of dust slowly settle over everything, weighing it all down.