tootootoot

the only kind of
death I ever understood
in a primal blues hound sort of way
in a musky psychedelic grace sort of way
is a blameless eternal hunger
pressing into the backs
of the youth
gently
as they face the fires that
hold up the only moon
beyond the cat's quiet night
a bearded wisdom of cold empty space
a house held in the chest
as ash mixes with dirt

these children who animate
themselves with bright black feathers
they see themselves as werewolves
not the phosphorescent machines
their parents saw
glowing behind dreaming tubes
all hung up on bones
no
the thought presses into their backs
gently