Not Every Nightmare is About You

The elk corpse on the mountainside
is shredded like ripped up tarot cards.

Sunlight narrates the scene, running
a lanky finger over every bit of meat and fur.

Sage, rosemary and thyme anoint the air.
It is cold enough to freeze your shadow.

A landing owl with a mouth full of chess
pieces spits out a king. It does not have your face.

Later, moonlight will carve dice from elk bones
while distant pines weep arrows.