jay

Sure, it's gross, but that's not why.

It's hard to look at because clearly no one could be bothered.

Like, really? To the edge of the road, that's as far as we're willing to take it?

This creature has died horrifically and the most we could do is leave it unattended and wait for a city worker to pick it up to do god knows what with it.

And the worst part is,

I always keep on driving.

There's a part of me that wants to stop, to mourn the life that was, but I always have somewhere to be.

I need to go from one inconsequential building to another to do things that don't matter.

I don't have time to pity the dead.

This brick in the wall needs to hold up another brick in the wall and if I get distracted thinking about dead deer the whole thing collapses.

Or at the very least I'll end up destitute.

And then I'll become roadkill too.

Where I'll wait.

And wait.

i sold your soul on a flea-market fetched it for a dime or two then kept its remnants to dry beneath the rain of boiling moons

you forwarded me a correspondence inquired "where did my precious thing go?" i shrugged and moved the fishline around "i hoped for it to find a better home."

"seems so cruel how it was destined the lamb ended up breaking its wolves' heart."

the cautionary continues though the canary cannot,

though there's no listening because it only makes us miserable thinking things,

which we wish it wouldn't,

terrible tenderness

stored since birth under layers of skin, sickness that cannot be bleached from fibers— never a raised hand, this blood curse, this vine of swaying blooms in late spring's swelter and storms, sanctuary from the whip of lashing wind, woven into the fabric of this tongue bitten presence, carried like a newborn, this lunar lullaby in stillness.

clear cut

a branch severed, carried into the oppressive sunlight. weakened ties loose in the spiral of an exhaustive bond— worn walking shoes and freezer burned ice cubes resting in a warped, plastic container. to quiet quit, to bury years without a funeral, guilt spread thick like molasses over slumped shoulders. a house razed, this unclaimed body.