I Can't Find It, Even under the Bed

I've looked everywhere -
in places familiar, unique, odd,
in places I should not go,
can not afford,
and where I wish I've been,
dangerous places
where white water waits to drown
and crumbled peaks whisper "fall,"
where it is so safe
I take a chance I will lose more.

I've looked in
burn barrels and chicken coops,
wood stoves and cribs,
the back yard and bird feeders
(stored in the garage among lawn chairs
and artificial Christmas trees),
along the driveway
on the way to get the mail,
in the paper box,
garbage can,
abandoned upright freezer door still intact.

I was tempted to climb the fence
and look in the neighbor's back yard,
even "Beware of Dog" insufficient to impede me
(the raccoon was).

I've looked
and can't find it.

Perhaps I've built a prison
of stone and iron bars,
a cage of webbed  and wiry deceit,
traps of nothing more than vapor
held by molecules made of to much
carbon dioxide, not enough
oxygen (do not light a match).

I've asked crows
who only tilt their heads
and one eye open stare at me
as if I should know.
I would ask cormorants,
but they stare with two eyes,
their wings extended like black angels.

Perhaps gulls know,
though I suspect the gulls will tell me
it will be in the last place I look
(under the snow, across the river)

or that I will not know it when I see it
(the other side of the forest, wolves howl)

or I've found it
and this is all there is

while they squabble over the remains.

GO TO http://www.mindfirerenew.com/ TO SUBMIT THE BEST NEW ZINE ON THE WEB. 
Poets for Peace.... ¡Poemas sí, balas no!