the night before D left town for good/the whole neighborhood stunk of roadkill/skunk and as i drove i/felt the smell was stinging/N’s eyes in the passenger seat/so much so/they were tearing up. i’m using how much the body knows/of the soul that etches through those small spaces/between each cell. i don’t think i’ll see/D again. and when i don’t/they’ll reek of a delta/moving with age and silt.
hoping the smoke sleeps
while D keeps driving place
to place, their car full
of those things to be brought these things
so far. they become ill in the gyre. rising.