Friday, December 21, 2012

Written on the occasion of Terry Thompson's suicide, Zanesville OH

I am of this place,
and when I release my bestiary
it will be a king of rats that crawls from my gut,
a tangle of tales and black eyes
 a cloud of blowflies,
to sing in the eaves of my final room
a possum hissing wrath, a black bear

save this  sad, mute ape, who will shed my skin
at the last like a salvation army suit
and carry your name into the canopy of the trees

you grieved the nineteen tigers, the lion chasing horses
the wolf, the bear, the storm of animals
and how I love you for that
to love the sharp teeth let loose in the mown lawns
the hungry bear in the pantry
to hate the safety of bullets
the black stain of a beastless road
to love the wolf and hate the keeper's skin

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