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Tuscaloosa in July: storm on the dumpster edge of the woods 

Flooding by the junk.

Three skunks
under a hedge at the edge
of the woods—their bodies

the size and jaggedness
of pinecones

hitched up
on what

a hound has left
of their dead
mother’s dark back.

They make of the gnarled structure
of her body
a life raft

under the pine tree, something

in the slur
of the storm
which is tearing apart
all that we have thrown away.