notdeermag
Laypeople, Comets; Kay Oakes
I know what is Goddamned
As it lit down on the footpath
As starvation, the language of insects
So the pikefish bleeding through the vaults
Of young wine Cousin, I give my face to the blushed amber and yours
Come the humid evening, we read and say again
One to another The light hunting us through the rot
Like an ancestor
I watched her right her own back and retch
Wrap in the curves of bone
They spill the ground with song
Yea, the smell of night, the tar blue
The way the heritor got sick as dogs get
That he took to wearin a mask
He said Good night
At the handsome whim of gulls
Kay Oakes is a writer and educator in South Texas who just can't stop thinkin about sleep and coyotes. His work can be found in or is forthcoming from Strange Horizons, Brazos River Review,Scalawag Magazine and Menacing Hedge.