The Distant Joke
The hawk is breaking. You see it. Not flying. Breaking. Like glass under a heel. The feathers scatter. Not like leaves. Like shards. You watch them fall. One by one. Into the mud. You are ten. You are in the yard. The mud is thick. It sucks at your boots. Your brother, Thomas, stands beside you. He is taller. He is angry. He holds a stick. He hits the air. He hits the tree. He hits you. You do...
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