of the bludgeoned landscape,
the circling pterosaurs screeching ravenously,
the death-gray sky stretched over him
like a rack victim.
Eyes brimming with formaldehyde, he zeroes in,
and the shotgun once again coughs out
its bored mutilation.
Trudging without interest through
the liquified remains,
he ignores
the satisfied cries of the reptiles
as they feast and gorge,
and rams two more shells
into the infinite chamber.
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