What’s this called? A meniscus. A hundred
instant strip-mines, testing at my skin. Experience
erosion. What’s this called? Spread eagle.
The only difference between lying down
and flying. In six months they’ll pile snow
on the grass, spring will come and it’ll still
be there, confusing baby jaybirds. Foreboding: for
animals that can’t think. Foreshadowing is
a form of habit. Look up and count the
night’s grey hairs: one. In six months, we’d
be frozen to the ground, but tomorrow
kids will come here and play soccer. Their
mums will find my beer bottles. Yours, too.
There will be a shaking of heads. There’ll be
much discussion on the strength
of our community, the sanctity
of gates.