Hand Fed

By
I crawl from underneath fluorescent light,
My eyes an awkward emerald
In the long autumn night.

The parakeets screech, aquamarine
and bright, the sword fish is asleep.
Daddy holds me upright.

We buried our pets in tangelo
Bottles with no regiment. I resent
The smell of dogs that arrived before my time.

The mice scatter in the sticky sweet heat,
And sunny head took off
On a summer flight.

My mother held his hand too tight.
He broke away and rolled his eyes
In the Cincinnati street.

Grandmother’s complexes have crumbled,
and I’m divining in the dark.
Speaking in tongues.

Two long arms reach out to an empty bed
I will leave this all behind.





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