“A snake eats a mynah”

A snake eats a mynah

head first, yellow legs extend

from the snake’s filled mouth

The cattle bellow

tethered to ancient trees

Dung fills the tall grass

Thunder strikes at the humid air

There is no I

in the breath

Roots wind through fallen leaves

The terror of an owl smashes

into a tree trunk

loses a wing

drops below into dried weeds

There is no I

in the breath

The seasons are muscular and original

What should I

speak

Thunder strikes again and again

What is real must be harvested

each day and threshed and ground

put through fire

then eaten

What should I

imagine

in this place where we become

Our sight is made from our seasons

Bring us

the rain