The fear that is and the fear that is a mosaic
Of a whole bird, stained fingers of coal, flaps
Like a man who cannot spell

Pieces together like a carpet which she's gathered
For the guests, and not herself.
Do all snakes die?

If one snake dies, then they all die.
This is why you find skins atop rocks in hot summer;
An old grocer or student's smelled it's like to be a snake

And's planned against the short game.
This is why you'll find her sunglasses on the night's stand
And will not be ashamed.

Outside it is the smell of baking small chickens
Three in a row laid evenly spaced on the cross-metal
These birds each one owned a laundry-mat

And now having escaped the shovel
You'll find them copper burnt strings tied in a bow.
Then, when it is all snakes are dead it will be because one.