| Brian Beatty
Some of Us Were Sent Here to Eavesdrop
Pigeons coo
as if the sidewalk
hasn’t heard enough
of their stories
to know none of them
are true.
Rush hour passersby
continue
to trip over cracks
in the cement
– to go flying
through the air
Grandeur
The flashlight I held up to my hand
was so powerful I could see
blue blood pulsing
through
– a circular trick of the light
that would be the end of my biology.
The Difference Between the Unknown and the Familiar
An albino rabbit
haunts our neighborhood
a pink-eyed
moon under our hedges.
Our walked dogs
and wandering cats
howl and hiss, their hackles
raised, but don’t dare attack.
This mystery
with ears
only blinks back.
A Woman with a Sharp Knife
The fur on the dark
undersides
of the strawberries
from the corners of the pint
was so surprisingly
soft to the touch
she shaved each fruit
before composting it.
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