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
Keep off the grass—they Chemlawn.
I want a cardinal red-leafing through your book of days,
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.