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Good Friday
I think the light
appearing, then
disappearing, across
the trunk of the live
oak is the boss
of everything
Not You
Not Your hands tearing up the grass in the neighbor's yard, fashioning little green crosses
no one can fit on
We can put them to our lips though
and whistle
*
I don't see You everywhere
All night, and
I have all night
Fire ants walking the edge of a blade of grass in the moonlight
We'll want to keep our mouths
away from that one
A parade
all night, and I have
all night
Cords of wood stacked all over the neighborhood
Snakes asleep between the kindling
Stars—
Return, don't
return
*
The dogs bark
at something that never arrives
at my house
Why is that?
If You came back and it happened again
we would shave Your head
and attach black wires
to Your Solar System
We would turn the dial
You would see Your mother
Your childhood
and small pockets
of darkness behind
Your eyes
turn to lightning
Someone would wipe you clean with a towel
Someone
would put You
in the ground
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