Burnt skin is tight across fingers
the prints are shallow there is whiteness everywhere
At some point your self was erased and why didn't you notice it
The red in the wagon was a warning you could sit in it
pretend that you could steer it downhill how does chin feel on pavement
One morning you woke up and the birds wheeling in the sky didn't recognize the land
The two children hit each other with rebar it is November
the land is in the midst of its throes the mountain snows in
There are ravens in New Mexico they croak in the treetops they are alarm bells
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| John J. Audubon - Birds of America (1827-1838) |
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