bargaining mummified buffalo
at first, the owner wanted to sell camel-knees
painted refrigerator panels, a white-cock
but I insisted that the buffalo
be let out to see the important particulars:
the sea. walnuts and almonds. a brothel.
on late June afternoons, sometimes
the windows dappled dust on the beast
laying it flush, protecting it from the oldest
of traditions. I hadn’t stopped asking
about the books, the flood, only
the buffalo, needed released — yes
released, and allowed to walk in silence.
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