my wife
dreams of blood and
what can i do?
one a.m.
and then two
and we sit together in
the baby’s room
listen to his
tiny breathing while
insomniac poets
pray to
an indifferent god
while the newly dead
wash ashore in
california
and what is the
end result of history
but this?
five children in a
town too close to my own
who find a stray dog
in a park and decide to
torture it
decide to hang it from a
basketball hoop with
a dirty length of rope and
beat it with sticks
and at some point we
drift back to sleep
with the hope of
waking up clean
and at some point
there is nothing left
to hold onto and
so we fall
Vintage Sweet. Need more of this.