of xenon

i smoke up
my front yard

poetry
my friend
detached

my baby girl
sleeps in the room
beside me
and
my wife
carries water in
this drought
for all of the
north east
and mid west
in
hopes of wringing
a bill or two
from the nights end
rags

by the days
i tell them of
iron in sand
and why it is a
fool
who stands on this
beach
in the lightning
storms

i do

and feel the rush
and taste the flash
as they
as angels
approach
warm winds
come to wash
tired lungs

well
i did
at
least

now i sit and
scratch at this
hoping for a
clean water bath

with
the after smell
of xenon

salts for bathing
washed from
bayberry