You carry things at a right angle
Subtract thirty years
Add salt, breadcrumbs; add powdered sugar
 
I walked through the woods there, the fields running under the phone lines, dry but cold, staying inside the tree-line, inside the dream
 
The field side of things felt like early winter in the 1970s
 
Three deer, two waiting on sawhorses, were being butchered in the snow
by a couple wearing orange snowsuits
 
There was a child
There were statues in the woods with me
 
One had a hand covering his mouth
 
I’d parked near the one lane bridge
 
Hid my car keys up inside the right front wheel-well
 
I used to go on these walks all the time