I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

I have an axe
with hearts gashed

how does an afternoon turn
on its axis?

I don’t
know why
I’m in the garden
kneeling on dirt

Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.

Now that the Israeli has left, it falls
on me to make the salad.

Even from this distance I could go out
the door it would bang shut and crumble

You let the yellow glow
from eye sockets. The building up the street
is burning faster and faster.

Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.

I would always rather be happy than
dignified. Rather held than held
in awe.

In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote

Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.

I like to think I’m also sprung,
released from the furnace knocks,
done with the heavy meat stews
and salty soups.

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

you know that
baby swallows make silver ripples
in wild rivers to court reeds?

I am still waiting for the lion