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"The buzzards are circling closer than usual. Something has died again: The five-day-old pizza in the creased foil bag -- spinach, artichoke, olive oil, all half gone. The gray moth caught in the web in the window -- it was my lamp that drew it, beside the bed, half full. The tomato vine -- the last in the garden before the coming fall, its flaming fruit. Death isn't so big, I think.
I go out with three books; I open one. The guy with the beard observes my read. He isn't so big either, I think. I finish my drink. Before I jump I will put on my coat"
Thursday was so full of holes
Some of them for peeking through
And some of them to hold me
Some as fine as needle eyes
And some ragged as a gold dig
Well my coat jumped
Farther than I
It billowed
Like an eagle
Like a flag
And said find me
In the morning
And I will tell you
What it's like
All the way down inside
Thursday was so full of holes
My fingers finding places in
The laden pockets beyond stitching
That you're never meant to find
Where gather all the missing things
My coat was taller than I
And it waited in the hallway
Like a friend
Who said take me where you're going
I know that it's warm outside
But I'll just come for the ride
Thursday was so full of holes
Strands of sun were peeking through
And they filled the highway
And the skin around my nails
And we sat, dappled as a lizard
Too big for our skins
My coat was smaller than I
Dog eared and half open
In the breeze
It said remember when you found me
It was a gold fall night like this
And I had been left behind
"Death is not so big I think
Before I jump
I will pick up my coat"
My coat fell farther than I
Unfurling like a buzzard on the wind
A creature with no edges
As the whole damn night
Took him in
Then it was cold against my skin
Well my coat jumped
Farther than I
It billowed
Like an eagle
Like a flag
And said find me
In the morning
And I will tell you
What that was like
All the way down inside
