These Hazy Days

Goose Down

I am a cold man

Folding strawberry hands

To my wide straw waist,

And my belt is made of tinsel.

Sheep sit on the mantle, perspiring.

The family drowns kittens

In barrels in the back yard. 

Goose down.

Nights, with no stars,

A dark town and winter breath.

I used to walk on pavement once.

I used to be a man once.

Now I stand with landlocked legs

And eyes that see white static,

In a small world that doesn't know me.

I hear the cries of the kittens

Before they go under.