doubled & folded a two way mirror
see the blush on a pale bottom,
it is as white as me

read a book on “how to be a ghost”
working as crows fornicate,
black, love made with dead bodies

i floated over the lot of them
and i was so afraid, i did not know
what was seen on the other side

car lights, a saint to pick up roadkill
do not forget that ghosts watch
the birds echo, they might

verses were rehearsed & daresay
written on a couple dimes
we both have wings

while we both have wings,
i cannot fly –
oh, crows not the white of doves

i am dead & they eat my color, alive
fern to shield beads and eyes
*****, pricking red bowels inside

should not know for literature
god’s couple of miles higher than
what the good book claimed

and he watches us from a mirror
the other side of a stage
we look so ugly, the crows eat my face.