By Hunter Potts
Often coffins flowing
down the stream share
a single bone between the lot of them.
Of silky skin
and s t r e t c h e d arteries
where a single crow sits
atop, the scent emanates
about the downstream song.
Sopranos and baritenors —
the favorite cheap entertainment of the wolves —
dance with soft piccolos.
They dance the downstream song.
Secrets are kept from
the bottoms
of the coffins,
the parts that rot
away.
But that’s only sometimes.
That’s only when the crows
eat the flesh of sulking men
too endowed in their watery problems
to realize
That’s only when trashed instruments belt
out the blues of the downstream song
because they’re too poetic
to realize
That’s only when there’s a lack
of bones in the graveyard
while wolves howl away, thirsting,
realizing
That’s only when synthetic floods
push those already
dead down the stream.
That’s only always.