Fields are poisoned by late snow
Like trumpets by angelic saliva.
An inch, or maybe two, plus the moon,
Seat belts and socks eaten away by raccoons and coyotes.
You have no idea how many hangovers
A goose can see through before the eggs start to crack.
Changelings never check the quality of their toothbrushes,
Don’t ask about the keys to the air.
Their faraway parents leave the rest of the wine to mice
And go to bed. Low time to look for the salt of the sky
For the wickedly obsolete.