Addendum and Other Poems
Addendum
The December I was ready to die
I took myself home to my parents’ ranch.
I’d meant to say something about
couldn’t & wanted to & needed but
I couldn’t do that either & perhaps
neither could they. So instead,
I couldn’t do that either & perhaps
neither could they. So instead,
that December, my parents & I,
in a pulse of blond hills, fastened
my mother’s iPhone to a fence post
in a pulse of blond hills, fastened
my mother’s iPhone to a fence post
in view of a heifer’s carcass. Johnny’d
shot her, after she’d prolapsed, out of
pity, then left the world of her
shot her, after she’d prolapsed, out of
pity, then left the world of her
splayed above the clay & ice. We set
the camera’s mode to time-lapse & later,
in the kitchen, watched the comings,
the camera’s mode to time-lapse & later,
in the kitchen, watched the comings,
goings: foxes, a bobcat, vultures—
& once, a bald eagle easing down
from the blue brutal. For a week,
& once, a bald eagle easing down
from the blue brutal. For a week,
a soft blur orbited the heifer.
For a week, it offered up
its slack bellies, warding off death
For a week, it offered up
its slack bellies, warding off death
by consuming it. When the heifer left,
she left most of her behind. And so
it goes. About it, I knew then
she left most of her behind. And so
it goes. About it, I knew then
as much as I do now, which isn’t
a lot, only that instead of going,
I stayed. On its string of starlight,
a lot, only that instead of going,
I stayed. On its string of starlight,
the moon rose, a stomach of stone.
In the yard, the coyotes yipped
till it sunk. Again, again.
In the yard, the coyotes yipped
till it sunk. Again, again.
