After the fire dies
Down, we go our
Separate ways alone,
Into the dawn—
Caroline will take
Her life next month
After a woman stabs
Her in the brain
With a knife outside
The Rite-Aid a week
We know these times
Bracket all we have
Left unsaid, steam
Rising from our bodies
With old ideas that
Have nothing to do
With what we mean.
It was very cold today. Now captive audience
To the truth of an amoral world, poetry proves
Its weakness as a legal system—its discrepancies
Lead to and deal in the inevitabilities of chaos
And disproportion with invented confessions.
Working C-shift, on lunch break, I check
The security cameras at home from my phone.
You have climbed out of bed and snuck down,
In your Transformers and Decepticons pajamas,
To sit at the piano. Your eyes glow in the dark
Room like a raccoon. You lift the fall and begin.
I zoom in and turn up the volume to attend
The concert you’ve made of snow passing
Through flood lights blazing on the back porch.