shriven

the boy picks up a black toad
a species not found outside the valley
and sets it down a few feet away

the toad knows that cattle die here
flattened hides stick to vertebrae
coyotes drag the corpses behind stone walls
built for stalking mule deer and bighorn

okay the boy says hitching the trailer
to the tractor he has coaxed up the slope
raises a leg over the rusted seat and
spins the wheels in the sand
the orange machine skids
flips end over end and settles
as the toad sits unblinking
in the sage

there is no blood
on the hands holding the steering wheel
or howling in the mountain wind

only a face pleased with the sky