we are all fucked up
but some of us are fucking back—Madeleine Shine
the parakeet killer in the treehouse
replete with love stirs himself
to finish the job a little tighter a little more
and this bitch will stop forever
out there the night the day the fields unfold
this love that bubbles up from the saproots below
well it sings and howls
we are having a family party fishing
around a tank adorned with blue and pink ribbons
when we catch one we slide it back in
watch it hang there big and stupid as a dead angel
sinking slow in the trauma and fog
I have forgotten myself again
I am far above the ground
in the treehouse where I first carved your love-teeth
.
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