midnight poem for RW
The machine that pumps
poison into my neighborhood
every Thursday night has
gotten better about
being quiet
so in the silence
I’m making flags
for the made-up
countries that I
go to when I
miss you
The key
to this has
always been
start
basic
move
forward
cautious
ornateness catches us
off-guard
The places I am going to lately
they are real countries
they already have flags
& everything I make
is unfinished
terrible like my hands
a different type of effigy
I should really find better places
