Eventually, we stop counting;
the final bird of prey rips out
the throat of the penultimate
field mouse and dies soon after.

Beyond its understanding, a trail
off a meteor scrapes against fallen
stratosphere, its terminal plunge.

A man who once begged heaven
for space, for time by himself,
to live on his own terms—
at some point, forgets how life
feels or his voice’s sound.

He eats that bird and dies
soon after, imagining nothing,
cast out to drift between planets.