every once
& again
when a sigh
escapes &
someone
thinks you
farted instead
just own it
& carry on
carrying on

whatever pigeons want
let them have—
which is to say
sometimes giving up
is the best option
especially if
you’re carrying around
loaves of bread

months long sun
breaks & slides
across sky pan
& the fog &
funk rise to
greet us in
beds split by
sweat-slick sheets
& look there’s
not much to
say except sorry
about the garage
door & hey
did you ever
buy any plums?

swamp summer hip-high
in minnow mud &
frog scum, sky
an open tear
crowded by shrub-top
& tree-crown & convent
thoughts caught on tongue
in birdsong & chirrup
& things left unsaid
in untwinings & what
did you expect?