Jake's Flea Market

from a distant
horizon of a clear day the mountain god’s
eye saw   it all it saw
a white insect   of the subspecies
general motors or ford or chrysler crawl
west on a distant 
ribbon of gravel like the road 
was a long gray grass blade   a silver stem

the mountain god saw   the insect stop 
where the road passed
cat tails on the shore of a distant pond   

saw dad’s birth   saw dad leap
out of the head of the insect   saw dad become 
a black and distant dot that moved
from the gravel through the cat tails 
to the edge of the dugout

when the mountain god wore
evergreen tunics of pine and spruce
slate trousers   breeches of shale and sandstone 
it saw dad return   to the road open
the mouth of the insect feed it 
water he’d caught from the water

when the mountain god 
carried bayonets   rifles of lodgepole stripped
of branches and bark slung
over its   shoulder when it stood
posted to either side of the gate that ended
the highway westbound   started
the highway eastbound the mountain
god saw dad die saw   the insect consume him 
saw the insect’s crawl   toward it resume

dad doesn’t talk
about the day the mountain 
god marched to and fro 

the day the mountain   god challenged
the insect’s approach

to talk about the day the mountain   god demanded
the nature of the insect’s business 
would be to talk about drugs   about how stoned 
the brain of the insect was 
two days before the insect arrived 
at the coast   witnessed how the pacific 
was cerberus in his cage   

who'd lick the taste   the flavour off the tabletop 
shore with his many tongues   filled with water