Leveler Poetry Journal
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Little Creatures

The harvest of mammoth has begun.

A vulture luftwaffe racks the kempt neighborhoods of

Kansas with its shadow

            and three mice died on the same spot of pantry

floor three days running.

“They like to die together” you said and it’s true that

suicides take hands on bridge and cliff-face; it’s other

hands that string the noose.

            The owls are edging into day,

            each wing riding a transparent balloon.

                        With the fields burnt of cover

                        prey is too numerous to care for craft.

“It’s the little creatures taking over,” you said and so

we go across the glaciers scattering bread.

William Emery