an alone so new I could split my lip
talking to it. off the highway, purgatory,

east of iowa. just one field exists now,
unnamed. before, I thought there were two: with & 

without. nothing above but a billboard:
                                                                       if you died right now,

I walk through grass in a shell of gold nobody,
down into green delirium. a no one, until a naked 

bird at my feet, tangled in thistle. swollen
like butcher meat wrapped tight in plastic, 

& downed skin toxic to touch. corpse small
enough to make the size of my hands cruel. 

as if it can still promise a second try,
its own rare world, I ask a dead thing

                                                                where would you go?