i am nothing but a small robin
as i perch on a branch outside their southern louisiana house
an orange cat stares at me through the window
on the deck in the backyard or maybe on the porch out front
a glass of iced water is forgotten, and bleeding its condensation onto the wood underneath it
the mosquitoes lay their eggs in the still, sitting water
spreading themselves like a disease into our world
but i’m still gonna drink it, because my tongue is dry

and the bird bath has been empty for years