stick your neck out

i'm ready to be charcuterie.
get the tiny knife to do the trick.
there are not enough ghosts 
for us to round up anymore.
we'll have to make some. i'll use
the tub. i'll use the binoculars.
our neighbors are home from
wherever they go in their big truck.
i wonder if they think about us
when they're gone or if they 
pretend they do not live on
a winding road on the edge of everything.
the mountain is on fire. my mountain
is on fire. by "my" i don't mine 
"this is what i own" but instead,
"this is what holds me." i've started to make
the big calculations. how much danger
are i ready for? i watch the news 
& they are plucking people from
the ground like eagles & rodents. 
i know i'm just a field mouse
who learned how to text. my neck
starts to grow. not like a giraffe but
like a goose. i buy bigger & bigger hoodies.
my partner says, "this is enough."
that is the problem though. there is 
always another person who needs
a ride. there is always another way
to be fed. he locks the door at night
so i don't keep going out flying. the geese
are in full force. they are not going
anywhere. no more migrations.
the government said we don't get
to leave anymore. i make a burn pile.
my head reaches the sunset. fills my mouth
with orange creamsicle. i'm ready
for the carving. when they jar my head
i hope i turns into gooseberry jam.
that i feed someone & they cannot shake
the urge to do the same. my partner
buys a kite. sends it up with a note
that says, "i made dinner." the night
has all the men still working. the fork
is never long enough to reach my mouth.
i do not eat but i know it tastes so good.