Of a Fixed Nature
Two boys pull green oranges from the tree
that hangs over the churchyard fence. They
throw them into the street with such auto-
matic skill that they may be the same boys
sent to kill in any war that will never be theirs.
The hard rinds get split by a list of vehicles:
Ford F150, Chevy Silverado, Honda Accord.
Crows watch from the tarred pole & dip
their heads as they call from the black wire.
The boys are immune to all things above them.
I remind myself to study the loosed pleasures
tumbling out of their arms & faces as each
round new body explodes under tires. Cloudy
jets shoot from the firm skin as each snaps
open with raw sexual extravagance. Small men
will rest in the arms of their mothers tonight.