the children now admit that they are violent
the war evolves, in a neat suit, overconfident
price-tag caught between its teeth
we will be fine I love hell.
In the morning I collect beer cans from the basement
you were probably once an angel
but you’ve grown
now you want what you want.
Outside, the sun is so bright
it feels like ice
and the newspaper is eating itself into the size of a hole
I cry for a moment then apologize to a stranger who
says something quickly and enjoys it