Bay Window Lauds

Cul-de-sac Pastoral

The sill plays a cruel joke — thrones me. Frames me
lording over lawn mower stripes — myself

in a shallow trench. In grass blades. Myself
persisting, despite a dickhead sun — me

in chlorophyll. Early, I find myself
swaying — me! in the black chokeberry, me!

in the rabbit’ s throat. Me, the rabbit. Me
dancing out pellets. Out-dancing myself —

my father’ s pellet gun, the hawk. The joke
is a bright belly full of dark hopping

along my father’ s garden & the joke
small, between wrapped talons, is the hawking

too, is the axe sun, swift, rising, this joy.
This joy, it swallows itself far too soon!