Two No-Nos in a Row

As for the story of little-pink-balls: dangling on threads like earrings.
As for the training operations, completed with ketamine: the kittens'

blank eyes, their new raw cuts, their jerky spider legs, trying to
climb the walls of the drained bathtub. Bubbling up from who knows

where: an ancient tarpit, a dormant volcano, laughter, a cauldron, a taproot.
Certain trees throw down a taproot, a deep anchor. Nothing can

blow them over. Certain trees should be shot. Take that Bradford
Pear now: No root system at all. Or Wild Cherries along

the fence line, fence long gone. Because the birds sat there and shat
and spat. No wonder the farm hands want to burn them to the ground,

to save the unborn foals from poison bag worms,
green and writhing among the grass blades.