The underworld the bright brochures have shown
declines our courtesy. The rare albino fish
wait in the falls, and the blind salamanders,
ignoring camera flashes, sulk in cracks.

Spoiler alert: Jean Stafford, in her
all-but-out-of-print masterwork

It was not unlike a raccoon
when I found it by the highway.
Clearly it was special,

As if in answer to a primordial urge,
I longed for something
to which to

Crazy Annie walking down the hot sidewalk in July
don’t go no farther than she’s got to.

I with parchment eyes and anger
am showing you small creature child
this ocean the color of intense sky

Also you stink. I have to turn away.
But still I reach for you.

What have I been disemboweled for?
Where are the gods I was told I was made of?

“But you are starting at the wrong end, ”I say.
“One is usually destroyed from the head down.”

He wanted no money,
had nothing to sell,
didn’t boast or brag or bitch