there's no reward for the children.
there's no love during a power-outage.
   
a dog-biscuit god,
lonely on the 4th floor landing
tired.
biting his knuckles
as the night sits on her hands and waits for something spectacular to happen.  

somewhere a huntress is hurting.
somewhere we finally live.

we are beautiful- clean, like some ocean drug,
smiling out of nervous fear.
sitting shirtless in the dark,
slapping our fingers against our thighs to warm them.

we wanted heroes
but god kills like a hero.
we found a crumpled hand and a cigarette.
saw a girl hiding from a killer in her closet

man with crow on his collarbone-
for some hot, damp woman
lost a piece of our prize in the coming of the sun
***-runner's daughter,
sign of the father.

we need no such badge of courage on our sleeves.