There is a robin singing in a tree somewhere, telling the world he is looking for a mate. A robin sings in a tree somewhere, telling the world he has found a mate. The tree somewhere is a tulip in the neighbor's front yard. Spring has come. We drive by the same people, sleeping in bags on the sidewalk, waiting for the world to warm. (Been a little minute since I wrote one of these...)
soft violence
the soft violence of the sword
that severs flesh from flesh
that steals stone from soil
or holes in awnings from
falling bullets, silent as they
settle to earth, as they come
to rest through this, the soft
skull of the city in the dark