a final breath

the yellow gore in the tree

yes, yellow,

was the guy's intestines

without the guy

who was elsewhere

scattered, hanging around,

bits and pieces and parts

and there was an arm bone

white, yes,

and a dampness although it hadn't rained

in such a long time,

the surrounding mountain

seemed unsure what to do with the moisture.

moral?  moral?

there is love in memory.

there is a final breath too brief to count.