art by Ranko Ajdinović | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook
Carry On, Carrion
I had my hands on him last night in a dream I forgot
upon waking. Some days are easy
but when they’re not I feel like drowning.
The clock has stopped in my mind
we are still wild manes and taut muscle,
entwined. What is the use of being
all racked up over a hunk of meat?
When I drive highways I count
the corpses of animals. The stains they leave behind
on the asphalt are sometimes lovely and it helps me forget
the dead friends and lovers I’ve left behind.
It’s not the animal’s fault when they collide with cars
but we curse them and cry
not for the mess made
but for the cost to clean it up.
It is the same when a drunk doesn’t wake,
when a vein breaks, when a bullet
blows a hole through brains.
I can still hear the sickening thump and tumble.
It has been years since I hit something on the road
and witnessed a thing left unbreathing
and unrecognizable after impact.
It has been years since I held someone’s stiffening
hand in mine. Cold and dry, like this fall day.