Whalesong
of course, as a poet, I’m supposed to think
words matter, am supposed to note
the irony in the Pentagon algorithmically removing
references to diversity from its websites
queer poems
Claw Machine
More to the left, he says, then leans to watch
the dangling claw from a better angle
as I guide the stubby joystick, grease-slick
from unwashed hands—just two coin-fed alley kids
fishing for a way to pass the time. Behind the screen,
the glass-eyed, cheap stuffed animals, cotton-cored