(for Paul Pavlish)
Vultures always come in twos when a sky (under god!) reddens the hind and woods, & the both of us and then breaks into a room where the stinking flabby-limbed always dart the heart (as I saw her do!)-- I mean, how can the rays and veiny leaves of one happy day compare to uncomprehending legs and arms that never entirely stop thrashing?
(2014)