Remover

I would take the road from inches set 
Within the earth and wring it clean 
          Of worms and roots and fold it like a blanket; I would wash 

Pavement clean of all those stains of fat,
Of lipids from the blood of road-
          Kill; I would find what takes the bodies and I’d wring their necks

But vultures are protected species; 
Washers on their insides say— Au-
          Cune laveuse ne peut completement enlever l’huile.

They’re running ads on anything with 
Screens and noise, like washers, gas pumps;
          Who am I to stop them?, I don’t stop for any crossing

Life— I pave it flat with hanging feet
And hands set firmly on the wheel,
          And never once have I stepped out and listened with my head 

Pressed against the turnpike hum; I’ve nev-
Er even tried to learn that grease— 
          Those names held home by animals, by tongues of animals;

By shadows, never have I known them; 
Never have I known a nightbug
          Camped beneath the bridge-dark on the median nor his gun, 

Affixed against a black patrol car 
Sat a half-a-mile thus with 
          Matted floors and noise and screens and other stainless roadkill.