like chickadees swarming above a grave

Seasons developing
like an ostrich in the boil
I’d rather not hold cards
too close to my chest

Or my pockets coil
a bruised rib
for a loose mouth
I give in
to a punishing god

the country mounts
a catastrophe parade
like a daily mailer
in a picnic basket
obsolete terms for
adjoining parentage

last night a creature
bore a hole between
my ribs and took up
residence between
the flesh and blood
and jelly, just because
I spoke too loudly

I shall from here on
whisper my mourning
like chickadees
swarming above a grave