In the West they are shooting
wolves again, threading them
to the ground with bullets,
then picking them up again,
admiring them for their coats.
It is Fashion Week in New York again,
spring coming six months early
under runway tents where loose hems
of dresses brush against the steps again
& the models rush to fit.
Manhattan photographers shoot.
Montana hunters shoot. Little
escapes the shots, & everyone is excited
for their new collections.
Collecting water, a jar on a hill in the rain becomes a cistern.
Collecting coins through the day, a pocket becomes a bank.
The earth collects the dead, & so becomes a grave,
& everyone is excited for how quickly it ends.
The jeers turn shrill. Arousal is never enough.about the author