A Week of Kindness

The seven deadly elements fight like nestlings for our worms. Death is without end

and therefore never as shapely as my morning eggs. Don’t misconstrue the ouroboros:

it’s not consuming but giving birth, having just crawled out of its own mouth.

I wake every day of the week thinking it’s enough to follow the warm curves of the earth

wherever they lead, though I know it’s nowhere good. And each day I dress

as if to the funeral of a blackbird seizing every kindness by the hair.