Lying About

Lion-flavored flatgrass
for a last mattress:
I don’t care.

I have named half the vultures
I can see above me:
it’s all I’ve got to do.

I don’t even have
pockets to empty:
I’ve fine tuned my poverty

from want
to lack of want.
It’s slimming.

The more of me I surrender
to a disregard for preservation,
the more of me there is to love.

I love this lying about.  
I am hoping
to name all the vultures

before the lion
comes home
to rob me of that game.