an empty roadcuts various swaths
through empty, arid fields
until it stops.
an object prostrated
exactly where the road
ends, the fields border.
this impasse
familiar, repeated.
beyond the body
unknown landscape or wasteland.
disconnected, detached
we watch events unfold.
again.
unaware of the role we play.
a vulture descends from nowhere
wrapped in nothing upon the
immobile figure.
and with silent
voices we gaze
and do nothing.
abandoned fields grow –
things forgotten
things not yet experienced
things the vulture discards
and the ravaged
body
– inside out –
vows
to cultivate and
return to empty fields.
