when chickens die
they do not squawk.
i shot a rooster
inside a Hole
one black evening
& he jumped out
hi-tailed it.

i chased him
around the yard
loading & re-loading
hopeful not
to make
a mess.

it is difficult to know
what is really dead
on a dark
& windy night.
feathers bristling
on the breeze-line
makes death
look opposite
from fourteen
feet away.

royal blue
tarpaulin
helps disguise
disgust
loading & re-loading
trying to be
helpful.

burps of bourbon
& bottles of
blueberry beer.
fate is easier
to swallow
after Dark.

horse fly buzzing
by my ear, black
stocking cap
pulled tight.
sweat makes
it hard to
grip the
shovel.