.the singing sparrow, pregnant belly down, done for singing..
.the husband watching the nest he built out of habit..
.she wasn’t an omen, we wanted to convince ourselves..
.one of us said, we should bury her..
.another said, which one of us?.
.antigone longed to volunteer..
.the coyote mouth didn’t want her fluffed blue feathers underneath brown..
.keep the children next door away from what might be an omen; another of us posed the imperative..
.this narrative jettisoned for drinks on the House..
.weary of itself..
.fatigued for fatigue’s dark couch..
.distractions proved useful..
.art knocking on proliferating doors..
.one could say more..
.the Chorus commiserated..