the faint, rich, sour aroma
manure mixed with distant caws
an unwanted edge to the breeze
stray twigs – a few mutant brown leaves still attached
broken knife blades of frozen grass slightly exposed
through the thin, white-silenced coat of last-night’s snow
a cliché that crunches under two benumbed, boot-encased feet
gruddererumpt, gruddererumpt, gruddererumpt
the only splash of color – a red, runny nose
perched over a scraggly, half-defrosted mustache
good to see you’re still dead Super Mario
if it would serve any purpose
I’d dig you up and kill you again
six inches of soddened sleeve
drags across the philtrum – left to right
see you next year amico
