Dusk

Mr. P., in a button-up shirt
and round glasses appeared
and said he'd run over the cat
but perhaps she'd not died.
He was looking for something, too,
but I couldn't put my finger on it. 
We met Kathy later, at the hilltop
in the dark at noon in her bathrobe,
cigarettes and somnolence,
white and withered, I've been sick;
She told us about a bear nearby. 
She wanted to be safe and found.
On the road, Jeanne was tired.
She was selling her place.
Her cat Keeper
had followed her husband
the native American elder
to the spirit world, and she was alone,
wandering for dry tinder
for the flickering coal inside her.

Jeremy with the scar from ear to ear
where they took out part of his tongue
was still not gaining weight.

Foxes, he said, probably dragged the body that way.
He pointed vaguely into the dark of the forest.