You floated like a dead man

As they scraped the black

Meconium from your thighs

I counted your fingers

As the dopamine cascaded

Your mama’s quietly bleeding

As you touch her matted hair

And there’s something holy here

Holy here

Boy, there will be torches in Carolina

And a pussy-grabbing president

And a mass shooting in Nevada

And hurricane after hurricane

And all is quiet as a dead man

As you touch your mama’s hair

And there’s something holy here

Holy here

B I R D S O N G S

BIRDSONG