Who will make Your long bed, Smooth your grass quilt,…
Starry night as texture, a wisp above the grave
Of the pink boned dead child. Pink as
Faint. A small tan coffin,
Its corners like a black girl’s nails two years back.
The wisps might form themselves into an
Eye above his head, but don’t—
Lush glyph of smoke. Coffin stood up on the hill
Like a stolen stele. Little Rose Li
In the coffin’s womb—:
Guns make useless wings.
A shadow asleep in the hill in a contorted child’s
Pose. Made of the hill. Placental. Impression
& ash. Remember
Mortal that thou art dust. Remember you are mortal.
An umbrella’s point may emerge from the ground
Soon with erosion. A hand mirror.
Coffin double duties as headstone.
Rose Li, cherub, sturdy bones, stands inside as though for duel. Cowboys &
Emptiness—: childhood. Guns with no grip. Stone. This improbable not float.