Often the turkey appeared at field’s edge
wanting to play soccer; mortally
wounded this morning shows me the arrow,
bewilderment in his eye.
Klaus who struggled valiantly to avert war
has died in a car accident.
The mind will not allow for long,
the opposition of life and death;
nor, gratefully, permit to stand,
the ridiculous assertion of a president:
"Either you are with us, or you are against us."
Walls fail in time.
The dead require constant attention —
in canyon shadow, a grocery cart at Albertson’s
filled with favorite foods, a winter coat.
Ordnance on display at a local museum.
Joanna combs the sheep at nightfall.
They shake their wooly behinds, shed
of Christian decency. A flake for each
of alfalfa cut and baled in violet splendor.