Cows don’t come home here anymore, the loudspeaker shouts

 

In the caskets, all the grandmothers swear

into their mouths and shake their heads

 

A wobble bumblebee shakes her head

 

I am baying like a bird that ignites upon contact with the air

 

I feel like a hearth, old in the earth

I feel light as a drowsy curtain

 

I recall sleeping as an infant

A bleating ship sail sclose to the winda spossible

 

Weird Sisters warp in the celestial cloths of the Townsfolk Closet

 

Homespun lore running into everything with its scissors

 

Weird Sisters turn their weird Bambi heads slowly toward me

 

Rain descends to the earth in a magnet,

shaking the whole body like an iron in a dryer