That’s just beautiful
she comments smoke flipping from her mouth
beading up in her greasy brown hair the sun
breaking waves over her cheekbones the dead rabbit
slowing being taken away by a squadron of ants
amazing us both in their mindless efficiency

We’re staring down from the balcony
and she wonders aloud why such a grisly scene captivates
when in our electric souls we fear death and avoid it
at all possible cost

I can’t help but imagine butterflies bumbling upwards
from a kettle of molten iron swinging gently above
the most beautiful quilt conceivable
laced with neon greens and reds on a landscape of blue drizzle
little drips of silver destruction searing holes
and falling into a black infinite mess

And as the ants move along the rabbit becomes something
we can’t identify a mess of bones and fur and blood
she lights another cigarette and sighs
concluding something between her green eyes that
she wishes not to share