Say I follow the trail to the clearing, the site
where the accident buried most the night.
a thousand, maybe more,
moving through unknowing
bottling their song kills them. I do
not remember their bowed heads,
their lunatic bodies
popping upward from the path in last jerks
of prickled tibias. Nearing the end
of the path in a panic
I’ve no respect for bodies
that I bat away, as they hate me
it’s important I go on.
Alex Rieser is the author of Emancipator (New Fraktur Press, 2011), and has internationally published poetry, fiction, interviews, and criticism. He holds an MFA from The University of San Francisco, where he worked as the Chief Art, & Poetry editor for Switchback. His works have appeared in, or are forthcoming from: Ploughshares, The Portland Review, and others. He currently lives in San Diego with his wife and two dogs. More at www.AlexRieser.com