I stared into the glass eyes
of a stiff face drooping
with the moment it realized
the admiration of mishappen circles
lasts in the unstitchable
threads of practice of age
the things he did not give
A once life mounted
on the wall of profit
its antlers for pride
a father died
before me, the child
lost hugs unrelenting
as if from a tree
lost a nod to the path
a body in the shape
of midges and sun streaks
glowing orange
pick themself into
homicidal air
Stale tobacco smells
like a taxidermy smile