uncanny heat
for the tenth of February
but the creek’s trickle still hits
the right notes after dark
the evening jets rumble
somewhere out of mind
i disturb a sparrow
in the juniper tree
that holds my house close
to its accretionary trunk
and the fluttering of wings
where a heart would beat
tells me to go bury my head
under the blankets
to bed down with the radio
dead air hissing in my ear
and dream a killing floor
of windblown sand
where pump jacks raise
and lower their horse heads
and flare stacks
burn eternally
for unknown soldiers
it’s essential to keep
the necromance young
the lovely refrigerator
humming in my kitchen
depends on it
and the space heater
and the halloween ladybugs
awakening in the walls
too early
with a burning thirst
