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We watched the car hit the gosling in front of Wendy’s
Interrupting the line of
babies the last flipping
over then back flapping
about looking like it might
walk head darting not
understanding the many
ways the end finds us the
mother also interrupted
searching the roadside siblings
pecking at the ground as
if unaware my son and
I interrupted in our
car unable to move
forward unable to
return where we’d
been murmurs fashioning
themselves about us this
is not your body not
your mangled wings not
your mouth a riot of
half-gods who cannot
look back not sweet
the sun not small the
hours we wait we who
carry no weapons we who
cut through the chorus at
the lip of the world we
who know our |
