poem.
The pigs will greet us while we stare down on earth.
The doors love, thicker than molasses
And they won’t open till next April.
Ma called in all the chickens, only none came.
Don’t wear sad eyes near her today.
Wondering how high we will be.
The clouds sink into my gills.
The water is still.
My mind is still, the earth is still at once.
