Black Oak - Slaughter Beach, Dog

Deep inside the country, he went out for some air

Amid an awful night of eating household objects on a dare

A tea towel, a handful of refrigerator magnets, and a watch

He staggered through the mudroom, got sick out in the street

The towel in tiny pieces, magnetic letters neat

And now arranged in such a way that they should spell his lover’s name

And time was of the essence

The engine turning over, the summons in the shop

He could not recall the number, but he knew it was a lot

His belly warm with drink

He leaned into the freeway in the night

Investigating exit ramps, waiting for a sign

Scanning up the A.M.

band, sliding down the vine

He felt his stomach turn again and pulled off at the park

She was standing in the black oak, carving poems in the bark

Planted in the café, her bloodied saber drawn

Marking up the manuscript, hard against the dawn

She turns on the recorder and pulls a nervous breath before she speaks

«7 A.M.

Tuesday, January 9

Realizing this may put my career on the line»

The café man approaches, with a corded phone and tells her

«It's for you»

Somewhere in the static, a disembodied voice

The circumstances changed, she will not have a choice

The line dies, crackles soft, then sputters back to life

«They found him at the black oak, they dug him up last night»

(7 A.M. Tuesday, January 9)

(7 A.M. Tuesday, January 9)