Per the weasel heart,
this morning
the dream played possum,
closed its eyes
when I opened mine—
fake roadkill,
sly distraction
while the animal truth
was buried
like a bone
containing
a little meat still.
Mark Jackley's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Noon, Third Wednesday, Sugar House Review, and other journals. He lives in Northwestern Virginia, US, with his wife, pets, and delusions.