Sprung to Atlantic air, a boy.
your smell. Feed him your milk.
your pleasure. Clap for him. You give it.
Today my baby would not sleep.
and went inside, floorboards creaking.
of course. Then I heard the news.
the boy lost control and shot himself in the head.
his eyelids without a flutter, lavender.
the pleasure in having something to keep.
the world fallen from my hands?