Dry-socketed eyes

Raw, streped nostrils

hot throats coated with hissing tin slaver

athirst for more than thin pressured air

Body-thick lightness

Buffeted on the leveling jet

Gut-falling

The jet leveled and caught

onward with tail winds from the West

which may have run with them since the mountains

Now onward above the brown-green patchwork

Of fallow and young planted fields

His jaw hung loose harboring the leather-sour tang

of a lip-set dip

Spit gathered and spit

Brown, viscous strands cast out across his beast’s rusted hull

to land amongst the cracked bones of last harvest’s corn

The wind spread waves of pale green across the shoulders and hips of the planted fields

Soy pale bellies upturned to the unfamiliar sun

Ascendant fingers spread up to unfurl clouds

And run across the sky.