Goddamnedvietnam Like Götterdämmerung by Jane Teresa Tassi
Racing eating roses
through lime trees
and chinese trees--
I've come to a pond
of young animal. He is
fur and syrup and bullet--
A bomb. Sh, rush. Flute delicate
and warm; has eaten lunch the
size of a swan from the shoulders--
Embalm him with ineffables impalpables
Take him to the mountain bottom.
Leave him for food for the moon.