hammock me in the graveyard alone under the flowering noni tree grandmother me blown-turned leaves

Summer is never

“Phyllis, be done with me once more,
as long as, a day or two later,
you declare peace again.”

Something four-legged at least. A beast.
Robot slipped comically on cave pearls.
And went in every direction.

It howled like a person,
It howled when it stopped.

“This Thursday you’ll have a substitute,” The teacher wrote—Pam Ederhuller, Previously a general practitioner.

You see I have this broken nose I got
when el tico Lizano hit me with a brick
because I said it was obviously a foul

I took the pill of estradiol. My feet hurt.

I feel so very grand
at this solemn
              and futile hour

They got borne away from home. Or was it to home.
What is home. Is it where they still bear with you when you get carried away.