Bright

The backyard flooded again today
So the oak tree wept brown leaves.

I let the dog out to shit.
Shes blind so she walks slow.
Nails curled in
her bones feel like broken chopsticks
in my hands.
I hate the thought of splinters.

This is the first time I’ve seen tulips wilt.
Though I’ve never once been home
long enough to see one die,
the ones in my living room are pretty
still like pencils in a glass jar.
petals and ants, thoughts,

a bundle of
oriole feathers.