On a Stroll

by Kyle Anderson


The boy lifts the dead grackle
From the sidewalk. Crabgrass sprouts
In the ant pile. He cradles home
The nightmare rainbow of its body,
Bathing it in the sink like a sweet potato.
The feathers, the gravel. Wash away.
They spiral around the drain
Like drunk teenagers
In a crop circle.

Outside, he grips
The skull, swinging the skeleton
Clockwise until it detaches,
Rocketing off like a string-snapped
Yo-yo. He chalks look at me
On the brick wall
Of his grandmother's house,
Grinding down
The beak to nothing.