Wetipquin Scarecrow
       

wizened nightmare how you hang
long past sweetened pumpkins
past stillborn gourds in frost

your harvest's dull coda

in June where straw-rot spills
from frayed flannel sleeves
falling to green encircling

the broken rake that spines you

even your shoulders hollowed
twisted akimbo blanching
pale as seal pup blubber

poachers jiggle in their palms

superstitious hunger that I am
let crows forsaken come
dark as a starless river's pall

their lapis eyes shimmering

let them peck the drawn grimace
on linen soon expressionless
as the shroud pyre heat lifts

unfaced above its flames

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