the crow flinging flecks of the robin’s eggstarted this poem. i could see its beak dipped
in the golden center one day away from becoming a body.
its neck was wild in the fervor to devourthe rich protein that originates life.
but then my kitten flicked a green-backed beetlefrom the window and pawed it like a dust bunny.
the beetle’s situation was imperceptible to my senses, but its stillness during her unstoppable pursuit
moved me until i heard a squeal from the backyard. 3 semi-feral cats surrounded a baby bunny
and ours had it in his teeth, slender legs dangling,pitiful whine that could only say save me
though no one who speaks bunny was around. so we chased the cat with a steel rake, scooped the rabbit into Tupperware.
it probably was killed later anyway, but we didn’t hear it. then we saw the stump of a bloody hawk in the ditch
but didn’t know how to sweep the flies from its eyes.
we took home a nice feather anyway
until we noticed the invasive ivy vine stranglingthe irises trying to have their spring. so we pulled it away
like a heavy gauze, or a mask holding back a virusuntil the blackberry thorns pierced our arms on their way
to overcoming the entire yard. in the endwe didn’t know who to save first so we sat on the couch
finishing glasses of milk before they expired. a lumpof pungent culture circulated our mouths
with weapons of invasion and death. our only defense: to spit.
