Hours Later

Cut out
imprecisely

and displayed
on an upturned
margarine lid;

the heart
kept beating
long after
we’d lost interest.

Hard Frost

Bird dog-fight
with swoops
and darts;

it’s hard to tell
who’s hunting
who.

I lose them
in the weak
silver sun.

I forget
about it,
go on playing,

until I put
my hand in
a pile of feathers
and warm
guts.

Alex Skorochid’s work has appeared in The Quilliad, Morel, (parenthetical), In/Words, Joypuke, Eastlit and other publications. Alex lives in Victoria, BC. When he can steal back enough time and energy from his day job, he writes poems and short stories.