III. Convo
to raise again Our Spirit's groaning out
and in.
I get no hint of this event until
my puppy quickens my thinker from haze,
she draws me out of reverie with her
chomping chomping chomping
what is she chomping?
chomping chomping
and I come so close to find
grey yarn
of bunny gut strung out
across wide-open little belly,
the way she opens silver packages at Christmas...
How long had it sat there rotting,
and
II. Meal
(is it always that color?)
III. Convo
My dog
desaturated noodles
II. Meal
(I don't think them're noodles, bubba)
III. Convo
in her lips
that look like
"What? Is something wrong?"
Past Me had need of answers
for he remembers smells:
formaldehyde
the smell he smells each time a soul
unwittingly uncaps a blackened,
inch-thick, dubbed 'permanent' marker
II. Meal
(black, please, no cream)
III. Convo
the smell of my mother and her nursing
classmates spreading a cat upon a metal shelf
II. Meal
(though stones, rocks, marble slabs would do or cedar planks. I like them served on cedar, but whatever you have is fine)