TINY HEART ATTACKS
We were children together, licked by the same black dog, no witnesses present when a bloody ax was found among the tools in the backyard shed.
Years later, we went to live in one of the rectangle states, a necklace of red berries around her neck. Our nearest neighbor was the far-off weeping of a long freight train.
A canary usually doesn’t chirp so much. That other noise was dusk gusting toward us across a stubble field. If there were ever records of it, they’ve been lost.