She strained her eyes
what is that dark lump
in the road
traveling into my throat
Out she went
sighting the black beauty
from fifty paces
nearer, the bright blood
pooling beneath ki’s face
Did he even try to brake
or swerve?
“no”, the tracks and trees say
Maybe the driver didn’t see
the pitch black, moving body
against the snowy white, but otherwise red dirt road?
Maybe ki darted out,
in front of the royal blue truck
a truck fit for a rural king
[doubt of the beneficent on Christmas]
machines
everywhere
machines
carssawsgunsplowsshipsplanesmillstractorsthrowersdozerstruckscombines
boatsturbinesrigsdredgerstrainsbargesroadsrailharborspipeshousesbridges
wellshighwayssewersstructuresquarriesreactorspowerlinesstreetslotsculde
sacsfencessatelliteslockscelltowerssignsculvertswallsdockslandfillsdams
she gently pincers the end of ki’s gorgeous black tail
gingerly pulling him off the road
redundantly committing his spirit
to the universe, aloud
with apologies for humankind, silently
purposefully committing his body
to a safer spot
for mourning
and carrion feast
Ki’s body was unexpectedly heavy
full of walnuts and seeds
fat and strong for a long winter ahead
so alive just minutes ago, I saw out the window
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
for me
for my kind
for our machines
for our structures
for our carelessness
for our selfishness
for all this,
engineered, manufactured, destroyed
the falling snow christens quick
she wanted to go inside
and sob
selfishly,
because the possibility
of an aberrantly painless holyday
passed with the dead black squirrel
she wanted to go inside
to tell someone
but the only one
was a woman – one profoundly unwise
and living individually in the moment
dis-understanding
in the least way
every single day
she wanted to go inside
and forget
but death was also present there
old, not fresh, also unnatural
the stench of a potful of bones, flesh and fat
boiling on the stove
a pig or two’s rib cage
in her favorite cauldron
the one she’d dedicated for vegetables only
she stays silent
swallows her heart and disappears
caw, caw,
caw-caw
the ravens have shown up
for a still-warm, Christmas Eve dinner
The Accidental Seeker 