Calling a Wolf a Wolf

It’s serious business, this living.

As long as the earth continues

its stony breathing, I will breathe.

am not a slow learner I am a quick forgetter

Each morning, I dig into the sand

and bury something I love.

Nothing decomposes.

I listen for the sighs

of people who love me, each agitation I create

a reminder that I am less than constant

in my grace.

I’m learning how much of myself

I don’t actually need. It exists, a world without

this dumb neck

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

This may be me at my best.

Everyone

I love is too modern

to be caught

grieving.

it’s true I suppose you grow to love the creatures you create

some of them come out with pupils swirling others with teeth

earth is a giant chessboard where the dark squares get all the rain.

On this one the wet is driving people mad—the bankers all baying

in the woods while their markets fail, a florist chewing up flowers

to spit mouthfuls here and there as his daughter’s lungs seize shut

from the pollen. There is a flat logic to neglect. Sweet nothings sour

in the air while the ocean hoots itself to sleep.

Islam there are prayers to return almost anything even

prayers to return faith I have been going through book after book pushing

the sounds through my teeth I will keep making these noises

as long as deemed necessary until there is nothing left of me to forgive