Abhasa

A presence like the column of light that sits
on the open iris of a rabbit before impact.
Like the prick of ecstasy that precedes
an untimely death, when fear has been liquidated

and life begins to pool around the scene,
soiling my fur. My ears recline like an answer
has been resting on them much too long.
I am now just the few haphazard milliseconds of headlight
the highway will grant me

I am somewhere between asphalt ornament and pavement queen.
Forgiveness, like everything else, becomes expendable. Explanation
cracks and vanity seeps in, the glue of the world. The moon is left

and the sun dissolves in its own oven of lies.