Aaron Sandberg




Out through gauze of back screen door we watched her aftermath and gazed onto a thrush that bled and flapped and flopped yards from this dog’s sniffing snout or whimpered whine that may have spoke apology or was stiff to beg to be let out to finish what’s been done while half-live things still screamed or sung from yards of mine since passed and wait for my own mercy still clung like quills to plume-fringed mouth when she whisper-growls two wrongs will make this right to silence some-torn feathers and find peace inside this carnage that howls between our jaws and grows silent when we bite and beg to let the leash fall and let chaos regain the night or let it writhe in not-so distant distance like all my yet-dead thrashes that make me sorry-sick when I said unto some god or dog please be quick be quick