Quarantine (March 17, 2020)
Through the west wall
our neighbors still
decide to get drunk.
You go into the basement,
pull out a red bag–
hammer and nails.
Framed photo of your great-
grandfather, we
slam it on the wall.
We’re stuffed
with a dry night
cough. We’re stuck
inside. Finally.
A good reason
for the rain.
Beer Pong
beer pong is concentric
angles & behind-the-back
a miracle of physics
not that I understand
the finer maths of sport
I held an endless reservoir
of alcohol schoolnights turned
blue-lipped and blurred
pages flipped to
I-don’t-know-
how-I-got-here
one time
awakening on a bed of roses
at the belly of Constitution Hall
staring to the vacant moon
soaked in sticky juice a book
with its pages torn out
Frailty and Fervor
the religiosity of longing
potatoes are my new church
long-lasting water-scrubbed love
in the oven eleven of them
I want you to count
carefully
our time remaining
provided what we want
we really want
is growing underground in vast distant fields
if we could see well enough to count
