Brothers, last evening I dreamt
I was giving our long-departed grandparents

a ride in a golf cart, in Tucson, after sundown, 
with the purpose of going across town 

to pick up their daughter, our dear mother, 
our progress impeded by a bustling street festival, 

full of sun-kissed people and marmalade colors, 
music — so much cheerful music — smoke 

and the smell of meat cooking on outdoor grills, 
stoic mariachis and drunken revelers, 

street dogs fighting over scraps in alleyways, 
the feeling overall, from the stops and starts 

and twisting though the crowd,
of being on a carnival amusement.

I awoke to a bird singing 
among the thorns of the holly tree.

I’m afraid that this means
she is not long for this world.

i met you in my old room this morning
purple costumes on the floor those childhood
gowns you wore in the forest gathering
ferns to sell to visitors
as if you could buy all that away
maybe it was playing at capital maybe
it was wanting to receive those round
acorn tops in exchange to whistle with
position between your two thumbs carefully
blowing a shrill cry
that traverses the rotting log, your storefront counter
and into that house
down the hall where there are portraits
hanging

Even across greyed knolls of bluegrass pasture,
wild narcissus declare winter’s waning.
Thriving under forest canopy cover,
along winding roads, and what’s remaining.  

Blooming early to meet springs revival,
strong, resilient, powerful, enduring,
from the Greek’s to Kentucky’s arrival
perennial myth of nymph emerging.  

Over twenty-six thousand cultivars exist,
Fifty-six species, diverse elegance.
Amidst earthy loam and frosty lace kiss,
whispers from folklore and jonquil stem dance.  

These gathered bouquet of fresh daffodil,
reminders of hope from hollers and hill.

rest will bring the most
be simple and start again
before you are used

God loves every creature.
God is every creature.
When I don’t love my self
and everyone else
I be pissing on God’s shoes.

Jolted awake at 4:48 by the Messenger ding, 
my cheek unstuck from the pillow still damp 
and salty from my earlier efforts 
to drown out the cadence of your voice 
calling me baby, calling me at all hours of the night 
and the day and now at 4:48 in the morning. 

I’m rafting along the rapids of my own tears 
while you nonchalantly float somewhere 
in the vacuum of space between the people 
we are now and those we used to be together. 

I don’t know how to tell you about my date tomorrow, 
or maybe it’s that I’m saving this moment before dawn 
to stash under my tear-stained satin pillow 
and bring it to light when you no longer call. 

Your fourth birthday. 
Sunday after church. 
The three of us 
alone. No money 
for a party, teething baby 
on my hip, a mountain 
of laundry 
waits at home. 

But I splurge, 
take you for onion rings,
the biggest slice 
of chocolate cake 
your baby blues 
have ever seen. 
Tall glass of milk 
to wash it down, please.

Little brother 
tucked boothside, full
of midday sleep, 
you and I giggle 
as we share our feast.
My happy boy, my joy, 
yor smile lights my heart, 
but I could cry

when the waitress 
brings the check 
for just a dollar
ninety-nine. She claims
her service
was awfully slow, so 
everything
but the milk is free.

You wear pink, make you look like fallow sallow
Ought to wear black, that make you look pink
Pink make you look yellow like tainted tallow
Ought to wear black, make you look pink

You wear yellow, make your saunshine mellow
Dim your sunny smile, ought to wear black
Make your sun light up, make you look bright
Black for you is right

You wear red, goes to my head
But does go with black
Make you look dangerous, glamorous, amorous
Just a little of the red though, stick mostly with black

You wear green, make your blonde hair red
How can that be, go take it back
You maybe a poison blonde but not rust red
Ought to wear black

You wear blue, give you a golden hue
Stones sparkle on your gold washed skin
Dark rich gold in your hair be old and cold
But still ought to wear black

Gray today
So, you sad today? Look washed out, tired today
Go back to the closet, find something black
Ought to wear black jack

crematorium 

you looked asleep
i imagined you
resting after the tall day.
after the last time you laughed
while the sun ribboned dusk
into streaks of flame

after the black sky
swaddled you, blanketing you
in stars while you lay
silently on the ground,
fingers of grass stroking your arms,
the night shadows grown long.

i pictured you
reviewing your day,
saying your longing prayers,
taking your medication,
and waiting for peace,
before you closed your eyes
and finally went to sleep.

in the end, before the fires burned
the shell you left behind
i mama-kissed your brow
now gone cold.

i wouldn’t eat or drink
once i got home
not while the chill
of your forehead
lingered on my lips.