by Daniel J Flosi

In the parking lot behind the strip mall
swept under some seedless tree
we found a skull
as pitted and burned smooth
as a meteorite

about the size of a squirrel
or maybe a small dog

perhaps it drank poisoned walnut meat
and visions doubled
lost sight of line and limb
before tumbling to the ground

explains the crack
or maybe the neighborhood fox
got to it shook her kill
playfully then bashed it
against the mallet of that tree

we try for a while to arrange
all its holes
you look deeper into the depression
of eye socket and hear the bell
of birdsong in the hollow point darkness

then you ask to take it home
so we can keep trying
to bleach the truth from it

turning back up the hill
in front of the house
whiskey toothed peonies lean
face first into the soft furrowed lawn

Daniel J Flosi sometimes thinks they are an apparition living in a half-acre coffin within the V of the Mississippi and Rock Rivers. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Funicular Magazine, Olney Magazine, Rejection Letters, Feral Poetry and many more can be found at dkflosi.wordpress.com. Find his chapbook at BullshitLit.com Drop a line @muckermaffic