One time, I took a pig’s tail
off the slaughter table
and stuck it in my pocket
as I walked home in the cold–
my granddaddy never knew
because I could walk stealthily
around the equipment shed turned
And one time, when no one was looking,
I threw baby sparrows out of their nests
and watched them writhe in the loose dust below.
Their eyes were blackened moons beneath a veil of skin,
and their naked bodies unnerved me.
Once, down the road away from the house and grownups,
I stuck my arm down the narrow muddy shaft of a crawdad
and reached until my check touch the cool, wet ground.
But there was nothing there.
And usually, when no one is around, I let my hair
run wild and curl up around my face and dream of the
life I came so close to living.