Damn, sad

two heads close together
one going down like a shadow,
and in the house the master comes and says hello
and the
short
life
is over.

we watched it from the branches of a tree, the windows of a bedroom.

dead little thing
dead flower dead bird,
you take a blunt weapon, ram it into the jelly of
night and of
pain…the wool of fear, the rough sack put on over our heads--
laugh now at the viper’s shot. the boa’s mouth
the wolf throat.

Cry short, then stop. Scratch my asshole in its light wisdom.
It’s a small ending for something
small again