They appear on the screen of his flip-phone

small squares becoming large

grainy, somewhere below 240p

he took them on the last call

‘You know how some people say we’re social animals,’ he says

as I’m met with body after body

bullet-riddled and bent over

limbs lackadaisical or ramrod

eyes wide with mouths agape

‘Well, we aren’t.’ Dragging on his cigarette

fathers, brothers, husbands

rendered into useless fat

mind-break fuel

free anatomy lessons

funerals without open coffins.