The prairies have been filled
and that year the spring grass
was being pulled, dominated
and replaced with a too-green, carpet facade
Nevermore the prariedogs rise
but rather the suburbanites
reaching for hot mugs of the fruit of your family’s labor
I was conceived that year
When autumn descended into black, starless nights
the earth was still in mourning after receiving you so violently
and violently the misanthropes misbehaved giving a peace offering to their
violent god that sits enthroned behind the vinyl siding in every
Were the faces of the ravens the same as those of the cardinals?
They were confused, weren’t they, father?
They didn’t know what fruit a dead seed could produce