Please Come
—after Vallejo

I will die in like five
seconds here in this
marsupial pouch
of Missouri summer
if I have to listen
to myself talk about
death again I will
die & I’m not going
to lie there’s a lesson
in this few people
get more interesting
the longer they speak
so get in the grave
of what you have
to say & get out baby
you don’t have to
shout it can be just
one word whispered
nests written in the trees
avian lice & mites
this city its lights
in mud & spit & woven
twigs birds swirl
their single vowel O
fringed flyers
bottom feeders
of the heavens O
wet black eye
bead please come
daybreak blink
the bright world
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