ant5

a July spider

the button

unbuttons itself

to have

something

to repair

the finger that

doesn’t bend curls

in your hand

I gingerly flick the drunk mosquito

crow says no more cantaloupe no more coffee

bee on my

hot skin a little cream

to fill your eclair

we have

a lot of

helmets

our hands

together it’s all

there’s ever been

the empty lighters still look pretty

the rhubarb

leaves sagging off

the lawn chair

the crow busts out his fake-ass patois