my father & i both sold our eyes to crows
but we don't ever talk about it. drive through
a field of black berries. soot falling
as snow. the cars headlights make pie crusts
in the wrinkled dark. i can never see enough.
too tall men on either side of the road.
they have antlers & dog faces. road signs
that dangle & become old pendants long lost
& turned to planets. once, i drove for an hour
past my exit. pulled over on the side of the road
& wept until the moon vultures started to swarm.
angels, knocking on windows. my father covering his face.