Loaded, lexical, plot’s curtain
drops. Crimson. Victorian.
The End. How apply this to the fawn,
fendered & felled overnight, now turgid,
a tiny table overturned at road’s edge?
The tissue that binds us
beyond the limits of narration.
What ends in these matters
is not mere words. Vultures disassemble,
verge, then settle.
I drive by. Postpone. Defer.
But closely read sky’s dilation, O Fabulator.about the author