bye magpies

Page

trembling small stones rattled
to let me know the illusion
was on

the worst day in
the world’s many sads
spelled itself in letters
of logs on the ground

chainsaw rrr rrr rrr transferred
through the old lady’s yard down to
the hard stone our town sat on and
told us to that last tree’s fell

that last tree’s fell. Do the crows
and magpies know us still. Smell her
pine in winter stove.



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