talons out
in the midwest slush
kneading sediment
palmful by palmful
he rides the scratches
that ride the steel
that carves the gondola
into the planet
he saw three eagles, their faces
shot with caprice
he said they were feathered with brick and scabies and cobalt and frost and slowness
he said they were smoking tinfoil popcorn and ammonia
hunched all far away
i said i don't think
those were eagles because
eagles they're so much
larger than people
think sometimes
when i poach eggs
tanspeckled, sunshinny
in my bedroom
i might rather
have caught
a cargo train
seen the eagles
reached your door
knocked something
criminal, irredeemable
in its silent face
like a methanic footprint
through a sunken cloud