Hymn (3)
by E. R. Skulmoski
Seeker of Hearts—
The birds alerted me this morning, to not forget the carcass
Of the crow on the highway—face mutilated and wings missing.
It must have been hit by a semi truck. It must have been a sign
From you, I am used to your mercy by now.
I watched a bee fall off a thimbleberry flower, devoured by a Goldenrod
Crab Spider. I watched my mother’s neurons misfire
When she tripped over my shoes. The other day,
A car ran over the marmot that lived at the bottom of the hill.
If I were in another body, I would have been thrilled.
Because a bird would just be a bird, an animal an animal.
We deteriorate into dirt, and that’s it, then life goes on.
E. R. Skulmoski lives in the Interior of British Columbia with her husband and four children. Her work has been published in Ekstasis, Barely South Review, and Voice & Verse, among others.
