Night Bath, Sagittarius

The last line was about a woman’s memory: The dog’s clear bark

out the pigskin valve. Swishing in your heart those seven years.

Students in their reasonable moments

hurt my feelings. Not like bawling in the hot tub, staring at my father’s

trees. I can’t stand being there. The blue light of their movie

on the mountain. Flimsy eaves

and troubles. What actually triggers the crying, what’s the cause—their list:

greenery, Mary’s garage, 21st Century, string of multi-colored bulbs. They’re angry

Or “Father Christmas!” to the memory of living room talent shows. Boyfriend

with flame tattoos on his forearms and free cookies from the cat-lady.

Insanity, as a treatable sadness. Personally, I would cause as much as possible

while you can.