Ants
Sometimes you’ll see one
far from any yard, maybe
on a bookshelf, Barnes
& Noble—third floor
of the mall—or somehow
whipping across town
with you in your car.
Cradle
Set the warriors to sea in a ship stacked with shields, layers of swords, mountains of gold. Lay them out with their wife. With their child. Lay them out with their livestock, with the whole farm. The rain is not coming here. Not today. For today the gods welcome one of their own back home.
The Pool
Oh, right. About the boy from the sky
He fell, unexpectedly, feet first into the pool
Which is a silly thing to think
A boy with enough composure …
Two years later.
The last thing I want is another poem
about war and dead children and how
we’ve forgotten their names.
Monopoly
My son’s the sticky-fingered banker—
a vault of red licorice squeaks
in his mouth. He conducts business
from his wooden chair on his knees,
puffing on a fresh piece of licorice,
clutching his stack of $500 bills
as if the IRS is coming for his
fortune with a giant vacuum cleaner.
Umbrella
Someone said Watch the baby, so I watched her sleep, small mouth with a bubble at the edge. Hands