The blackbirds’ hearts
crack and pop like little coals.
Wispy clouds move along the sky’s edge,
circling wide.

Heat – the kind that drinks the land dry –
curdles milk and parts lovers.
Cows and people hide inside the river.
Black fish keep swarming in,
hungry for soap.

The ponds turn into swarms of butterflies,
and the old men’s minds evaporate into the sky –
they leave to look for their dead mothers.

Once they start seeking, they shall find each other.

I lie down close to this earth, and turn into earth
as bugs begin to walk across me.
Through the wild herbs, a crack shoots forward
passing straight through my heart.