840
for the horses
when they are laid down
for the tracks
when the lights are all out
for her hair
when it stuck to my patchy beard
for the night
when it’s bundled up
in her crystal arms
for the wolves
that are too young to howl
for her grandfather’s
gnarled hands that
still have their strength
for the child
i never was
for the coffee
she spilled on her brother’s
favorite blanket
for fear
and i