Hunting Season

I watched a grown man

shoot a bird

and then sob

because it couldn’t fly.

We sat in silence

the entire car

ride

home.

I ask too many questions.

I tell too many tales.

He said my name

in the exhausted way

one speaks to a child

as if to say

not one

more

word.

just.

stop.

I want to ask him things

I know

he’ll never answer.

Are you scared?

because I am.

even air

is

toxic

these days.

Are you mad you turned

the gun

away

from

me?

I think we shared something

the moment

that bird fell from the sky

a kind of

mourning

for every action

taken.

We’re just killing ourselves,

slowly,

and now all at once

upon a time

I used to think I could make

any man love me.

so pluck my

feathers

until I’m bare

flesh

boned

and suck my marrow

until I’m dead ass

stoned

there’s no cure for dying

it just takes one shot

there’s a fear of flying

but that’s all I’ve got.