is making him bubble. The strain
in the hazel rounds, the pain he can’t put
down. The pitch of his voice is uneven. They

stuck their line in like floss between his
cracks and made a cross. I don’t
ask. I'm restless in this. Through the cloth -
a kiss.

At least the hugs haven’t a barrier. And I go for it.
Pray I'm no carrier! But after two months I can't  
contain. And seeing him light up through

the black is plain. He broke out of his cage this day
I did call. He asked to go home. We can't wait
for the fall.