Leaving Papa

Something in the gaze of ten thousand blackbirds
lays the mighty forest bare,
& the woodsman cannot even remember
the names of his children
who are running towards the nearest road
with thorns in their hands.
They shout in a broken tongue,
sense that time is either unwinding
or trying to reinvent itself.
They hear their late mother’s voice
amid the heat shimmer,
& the woman who never drove
breaks the speed limit
right through the horizon.

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