The Hunger of the LemurOn a hill he had climbed all winter
the lemur noticed a small black bird
with yellow spots,
the way the night ought to look.
The hill still slept under his feet
like something hard and dead,
it was the birds who were different.
The large black ones, without confidence
now that the trees were softening
and the roofs warming up like pans.
A police car sighed with the contentment
of the overfed.
Burst chokecherries sat around
as reminders of death.
A girl stopped, then walked the other way.
The lemur couldn't smell anything besides himself
as if for the first time.
I am a nose in a vacuum
shaped like a nose
I am the only lemur on the grey ice
These are only the slimy bones of trees,