SOME LIMITS TO HAPPINESS

Must we dig up this island for one white girl?

He got a bit singed when he jumped through
the propane hoop.

I pulled the nest from the doorframe so you wouldn’t
get dive-bombed.

Keep off the grass—they Chemlawn.

I want a cardinal red-leafing through your book of days,
no punctuation.

He saw her last Thursday, made a date to go bar-hopping.

We told a little story about the stain on his pants.

They pair-bond; both setting the eggs. If one dies,
the other flies.

He was shit-faced; she made him call a taxi.

On the sea-bed she can’t resist
the press of water: darkness visible, heavy. Boneless.

We’re happy as anyone can be in wartime.

I’m sated as someone can feel in famine

and healthy as any child who’s quite lame.

 

 by Joyce Peseroff