In Late May 

There was a spider
in an over-
flowing urinal

swinging its hollow 
empty under-
belly and sinking

yellow crowns brown
in cigarette filters 
in the park

and kids copy
crooning peacocks singing
on a roof

you can’t remember 
the last time
you were on a swing

it’s flushed out
by the scream 
of a child running
from a dog.

Ayuda and an Incorrect Angel

The sides of his head were shaved and the hair on the top of his head arced to the back of his nape where an invisible string lead to the backs of his feet and all the pressure he stored balanced and broke and his wet skin kissed a car so passionately with his fall; I put my hand on his shoulder to pass him after he stood and he saw me with wings growing from my shoulder blades and he followed me screaming Ayuda over and over and closer still I wonder if anyone else could remember him or if they wake up as dying dogs sweating and lost on whether they lived the day before.

Where it is windy and cold

A stone and a piece of sea glass 
Where it is windy and cold,
Erica is being yelled
By a brother flexing his toes
Into the sand and covered
By water.

Pigeons pink feet sink
And lift like gavels
After the verdict. They can’t decide
What is a stone 
And a piece of sea glass 
Or a crumb and a seed
But they drop their beeks 
At anything. Maybe there is nothing
I want here, and that is why I find it
So comforting.