ant5

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sweaty from

sleeping I shudder

in the chicken yard

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amassed in

the rolled chicken

wire dew

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Black Friday

meal and oyster shell

for the hens

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between bricks

the apple that dried

instead of swelling

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feelers arise

from the dust packed

vacuum filter

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it’s not

a cliche it’s

a trope

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vivid patches

of blue above

the stirring trees

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we’re thankful

for various

pieces

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the geese from

where we used to live

have arrived

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someone else’s

past comes back

to haunt me

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