Lucky Jefferson

What if her tribe erupts into legions that gorge upon my meager silk and cotton garden?

suspended on a spider’s web

we were to write a code-word, something easy to remember

save yourself, move
to the margins, just
leave the screen

after swallowing exclamation points
that might have made life better.

Coughed up overnight
              And pressed pristinely back into her orbit

I don’t mind, sitting here, watching my younglings grow

toes dipped in cool water,
my hair wisping in the breeze.

crushed by squirrels running
after each other's tails round and round

The leaves like wrapping paper
              Hollow sound of the wind swelling