this time every morning 
working the pocket theater 

I asked to accompany grief because 
nothing has prepared her 

working by the courthouse I can’t 
tell the children to go to camp 

I have to go to work and the duplicator frenzy 

how heavy my lids in the room’s wasted light! 

the children are acting out a commercial 
they look like small fathers 

again 
the sleepworn shirt gives me away