Sonnet 61

Sonnet 61

One hundred hungry horses dawdled there
Beside the substation where the cop was killed
Who killed the thug who killed the guy who spilled
His guts about the homicidal pairs

Who ganged up on the mustangs and the mares
Which paced Nevada’s sagebrush ocean space
To graze by dusty roads and shrubby places,

Where cottontails hop high as kangaroos
And sagebrush grows in waterless dank holes,
And if you die there, only field mice know

Where you lie underneath the sky that snows
Decembers, Januaries ‘til mounds roll
Over bodies because they are old news.