Some days are fat, lucky
rabbit feet—
nuclear green for a man-
made assurance
tiny, bright limbs swing
on backpack ends
your hand, clasped around
a sound—as if you
could have it
#
I await perfection and
watch for it willing to
cast off dead shrubs
in my pruning
this is not good soil;
it is prone to frost
sunshine sickness of
the daily trudged up
for a what’s-it
and a cup of coffee
found memory,
found the shock
of compassion a wave
brot in a new set
of shells, skeletons
awaiting an
eager search—
scrolling image-nasty texts
with a knack
for identifying clickbait—a live
auction for a slice of ham,
a Living Social for
family funeral services, having
a LinkedIn
your other shelves
catching onto the lingo
—too late
on the inside, we’re
INNANET eavesdropping,
sending discount
panties dwn spam