![cover of Une Semaine de Bonté by Max Ernst](https://i0.wp.com/www.vianegativa.us/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/24756247857_dbb5335769_o.jpg?resize=450%2C563&ssl=1)
The seven deadly elements fight
like nestlings for our worms.
Death is without end
and therefore never as shapely
as my morning eggs.
Don’t misconstrue the ouroboros:
it’s not consuming but giving birth,
having just crawled out of
its own mouth.
I wake every day of the week thinking
it’s enough to follow
the warm curves of the earth
wherever they lead, though I know
it’s nowhere good.
And each day I dress
as if to the funeral of a blackbird
seizing every kindness by the hair.