They move and they take. They farm twenty-six boys from twenty-six hamlets. Added to the nose comes from Cairo just an ear, Crites a sparing bit of fat, Horine those slight hips, Regal precious jewels small enough together to be one, Doctrine delicate distals rattling, Crystal Heights one’s still to ossify occipital, in Mississippi the retreating penis is purloined by a swift-swimming cat and absent from their collection, Little League the myocardium only of a small heart, Festus Centre an anus, in Dublin they acquire unctuous kidneys, Sunshine a tongue, Leisure gall bladder, Cliff intestines, under an early rising moon in Cave the lunulae of both pointer fingers, Ozark a rib, Henry a few zipper teeth of vertebrae, Roy quadriceps, Second: they take a colon, Third: a uvula, Melvin a scrotum no more extensive than a pruney fingertip, Alexander a patch of wenis, Thomas wreaths of youthful xylem, Richard what yellow marrow can be scraped from a cracked tibia, the boy being too old and marrow shapeless, Stephen the vagus and accompanied shuttering branches. In a bindle from a yanked down green oilcloth drape they gather the misshapen and mismatched bits, the correct shapes. In Jerome they’re out for blood.