28: Fair Ground

It was. The eagle:

yellow claw

over its world, tied down to a stick

poked in the earth. God damn this.

Its eyes brought the distance screaming;

a mountain filled the canyon

beneath my breast bone, expanded,

called

lightning. I

recognized the breath over the peak,

how the clouds had moved

and quickly; I dropped the eagle's gaze

to the ground before

I shattered under God. Back

to my funnel cake.

I told no one. I clawed

open my chest,

took my heart, and fed that bird.