Not quite suicidist, the Prophet Jeremiah
slow-empties his bladder, slips another sheet
into the typewriter of his day. Rented hog ear,
grilled sacrifice of moaning sheep, arrow holes
in blanket and poncho, the skin gone yellow,
the ungodly titanium color of deep-set eyes:
holy books, sand-worn maps, bloody feet.
And the long-decades wife pointlessly hums.
Eagles of glass circle Jeremiah, swoop,
beat sharp wings against his weary shoulders.
He shudders, We are orphans and fatherless....