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