A leaf, a cage, a severed hand—

one leg separated from its pair.

A little dog, a goat. When you order
milagros online, you get a mystery 

mix in gold- or silver-hued metal. 
Portent instead of charm? 

Unsurprisingly, the hearts 
with daggers plunged through them 

outnumber those wreathed with ruffles
or bows. Pain in the hip or knee, 

the kidneys' out of sync duets.  Blood
blooming like an out of control 

flower. Is this the part where you could
wish for that kind of life clean as a barn

filled with nothing but sawdust, chickens 
laying speckled eggs in straw? An owl

interrupts the moment: a sound resembling
language. There's no struggle in the hedge yet, 

no flash of rust-orange fur or a turbulence
of white feathers marking escape or exit. 


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