being silhouettes we sow strawberries in november

black woodpecker

at dusk you see a woodpecker

and everything is fine

 

blue tits the rattle of dead trees

 

asking the woodpecker

about the fish’s sneeze

 

ghost hare

across the path

her jewelry

 

shit or worse. a woodpecker

 

none of the kids 

wearing earrings

if your dream comes true you die 

and then a woodpecker