“Jesus, the Son of God” say, if they cannot hear
but she said, “He did it because he loves Jesus.”
a thankful nod, that God rumbles & roars over flower
petals, drives the hot rod.

overflowing dishes crowd the hot table
cloth for napkins for slipped up spills

ripped up & honest beyond expectation
did not understand that honesty & truth are
not always the same thing

she runs off
if the pack exists
we should be ready

the pact is this
water & blood
sweat thinking

separation & unification,
nights blown apart
drenched cardboard huts
the city hermit smokes
only apple mint

conscientious hours
spent in little dens
at prairie’s end clocked
in & out, the fire of life

the game is forfeited to truth.
hesitant glow above red coals
maybe Thanksgiving always
make me miss the dead.