My neighbors collect babies and
I envy them their cornucopia of giggles.
They have had their eye on my storehouse of sleep for months,
and if I didn’t need it like blood I would arrange a trade.
My pill plant is growing chubby little tablets
dry as math.
Harvest day is here.
I was busy being a bird,
birding with ease on a Wednesday
with only a cloud watching –
the currents too busy grinding
to notice my loop de loop
The moon is bored.
This is a place where things have not happened
in a very long time.
Ash shifts in the wind.
A stone almost tilts.
And yet that shadow has an arm –
and a match