Slumped.  Fur-frazzled.  A possum with its razor-
like incisors rendered harmless.  A death
like any other.  Like
 
robin’s eggs in speckles on the steps, where I’d kissed
David Renk.  Like headlight bent to twitching
jack-lit hart we fed to dogs
 
How grave the taking.  Like girdle pocked.  Fur turned out.
The bead that stopped the raid on carrot tops.
Ears that didn’t hear the
 
season lurking.  All I know of possum-
robin-sex is borrowed death:  Its
milky eye.  Feet
as stiff