they don’t tell you
when you have a baby
about the shrinking
babies
do.
we bought a smaller bird
but few
noticed.
we made friends, women
with lights
on their shoes, men
sold
on mittens…
we sent nudes
to the author
of babies
eat
sleep.
our mailman
he caught us
dancing
and threatened us
with an audiobook
on baptism
and that
was the end
of mail.
we sold headgear
we volunteered
to sell
headgear, put an ashtray
on the roof
as lure
for longing
that
of memory’s
narc…
when I say church
she says
widow
then admits
it wasn’t
her first
thought
was church
mine
where is bird
bird
hospital
do zombie
young
ever
crawl
we stole eggs
more
than we needed
if caught
our mom
was a widow
and brother
would name
our church
I don’t know who it was
told my brothers
to stop
drawing
rabbits
to look
like ruined
footprints
/ I was washing my hands
when your water
broke
sing they
god
can I get
your suitcase
memory
to the mailman
with a bad
back
is a crow
carried drugs
for stone
blank yard signs
radios
of the independently
poor
their babies
slow
in getting
up
doll, prayer mat, microwave
/ more time
