All of that dying and where did it get us,
holding our teeth tight like a smile
but not quite. I came to quell the howl,
to teach you how to sleep. Instead,
the Patron Saint of Leaving. The altar boy
caught with cigarettes. I become bones
for the backyard coyotes, a bouquet
left at the grave. Crust of railroad earth,
and then what? The athlete takes off running,
the soil dies. This is the part in the movie
where payphone rings off the hook,
gunman disappears against desert sky.
I spit my heart into my hands and brace
for nothing: devastation, briefly, then dial tone.