touch them where the road kissed

first. where their gills would be if

everything had gone as planned.

read: it should have been 

Water. 

yet here they lie - fat mouth

lulled to sleep by snowdrifts -

Black Swaning acrylic over

concrete. writing eulogies 

one-handed. 

now we’ve fish-lined their lungs

postmortem. stuffed their hungry

ghost with algae blooms. 

skin-popped Winnebago 

floods - for the drama. 

they did the best they 

could. they did the 

best. they did.