I’ve been pissing crucifixes in the snow these days –
to mark my territory, you know.
My animal instinct to say that I have been here,
that I am here,
a symbol of my awareness.
My eagerness to summon my will.
A subtle mind revealed in all things,
a careless ashtray,
a staggered path in the snow,
uninviting dress shirt, carefully tucked in evenly,
Yellow snow in the shape of a crucifix is not the sign of a dog,
or a squirrel.