Words like an ant dragging a moth.
Words like a tomato rotting in the sun.
Words like windshield glass and blood on the road.
Words like a toad pressed flat onto asphalt.
Words like katydids shaking silence out of night.
Words like a blanket of bees patrolling the grass before pyramids.
Words like a drop of blood from a diabetic's fingertip.
Words like a drink in an alcoholic's hand.
Words like breasts of an old woman in her night gown.
Words like a cluster of harvetmen on the side of a house.
Words like a scabby dog chewing a bird hit by a car.
Words like a toothpaste tube at the bottom of a trash heap.
Words like a crack in a wall.
Words like a bicycle without a kickstand.
Words like a car in a motel parking lot with all tires flat and dry-rotted.
Words like a mouse's heart beating.
Words like a doll without its head.
Words like a French fry in the beak of a crow.
Words like a seagull atop garbage in a dump.
Words like an ashtray spilling over.
Words like an opossum's skull packed with dirt.
Words like a hawk sitting on a telephone pole.
Words like a ham sandwich wrapped in plastic.
Words like avacados not yet ripe.
Words like the silent scream of your dreams.
Words like a section of pages missing from a book.
Words like earthworms dissected in high school biology.
Words like the mustache shaved off a hairy woman's face.
Words like a foot path into the woods.
Words like . . .
