And the sugar is more than bones
or skin, the hunger has not made
new music. Let me drown reaching
for a cardinal, for a thimbleful
of flight: bright like you, when
flies give thanks.
Carry cinders for others.
Give a table your boredom or misery,
all cheap china or shiny fire.
The rose, children, is a branch away.
Unscathed, you kept
your new electronics.
The witch in the belly
rose to the breast.
Under the hammer, a firecracker,
A smell like a cheap rose.
Banks drown everyone for ten red flies.
Afterwards, the air came cheap,
new wants sleeping at the breast.
Grandmothers in the bush for a good time,
the post-it note read.