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On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous Night Sky with Exit Wounds
Maybe he saw that a small thing moving through a large thing is more like a bird in a cage than a word in the mouth.
this family of ants fossilized on the page you slam the book shut look out at the leafless trees doused in red April rain where none of us are children long enough to love it
O wind-broke wanderer, widow of hope & ha-has. O sister, dropped seed—help me— I was made to die but I’m here to stay.
Because everyone knows yellow pain, pressed into American letters, turns to gold.
The cake on the table, air returning to the boy’s pursed lips as the seven candles, one by one, begin to light, and the wish returns to his head where it’s truer for never being touched by language.
You indistinguishable from rain. Rain: to give something a name just to watch it fall. What will I name you?
