First, it was
things: Piled kicked-
shoes in the street. A crusted thumb
like a coin dropped on edge.
portraits on poles, mimicking
day processions. The birds
off the roof, the children said,
birds were on fire.
it’s the small things: A flight
paper bellied on giants’ breaths,
like bleached crows --
of deposit paid in
dust. Ash trees turned ash.
breaths as of shears that
it’s the small things: dull thuds like
lashed by gusts; a gingham doll
smiling, stiff with grime;
stench that closed down nostrils and
minds: after -- after the avalanche, its
ten-league leaps, roar
Please let it be small things,