There is something in the spasms
Of a raccoon, crushed on one side
By the force of a tire - bucking back
And forth on pavement:
head tail head tailheadtail
head tail head tailheadtail -
There is something in this
That will not leave me. I have
Never seen a man die,
But I think I have.

There is something in the quiet
As I watch my mother try
To run over a snake by the
House, the tires going
back and forth and
back and forth and
There is something in the moment
When it escapes. I have
Never seen an execution reprieved,
But I think I have.

There is something in a little bird
Who wraps his wings around him
To keep warm and finds no warmth;
Only the clutching cold
and silence
and stillness.
There is something terribly hollow
In his tiny song. I will
Never hear a man so broken
In my lingering life.