HUNTING TO THE GLASS
As in a museum diorama, I can see
through to the other side of life. The
hunters with their spears stare back
at me through weeds, and there is
little beyond the marsh grass but
murk, and a sabre-toothed tiger.
-
I have to stay crash-happy, even in
this wreckage. Too little to say about
the ivory and the tusk.
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