Vehicular Homicide
There is no shame in nakedness of self
Discarded were the clothes of woodland creatures
Who would have worn them off eventually
Stand before me,
Look-
There upon that black shelf
The one that extends forever in directions of the sun
Watch-
Up and down this opening
Lay the bodies of my heritage
Killed by “zippets”
All my toes, I counted them, they had not a chance
Once-
The binding season crazed their thought
Jezzi was wooing BeBe, and he chased her
To what would have been their nest
Had he made it cross
Watch how it glistens like water beads on a strom
I almost darted over it
Had it not been for my le-bov-ed, ashee
I would be “can’t fly food”
What more can this harm do?
All their overfeathers, torn thin.
Apart went they, under this foul wind and instance
Better for you I am wise
Observing the forest floor as a watch-maiden
The smallest, tiniest, utterance I officiate
Like cries on the black shelf
Oft they wazzle me eyes burst
Panning the crunchy for a victim
Only to trail the splitten voice twice seen
It is safer here, on the crunchy sound
Where the zippets don’t fly
We can soar with appetites for tomorrow
Beneath the close of our eyes
1. Worst fear- speed (anything higher than 70 mph)
2. Being road kill
3. Owl
Entered in to Matt Caliri’s “Funnest-Hardest Poem Ever
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