Sometimes I clench my jaw at night
grind my teeth
unconscious to the swimmers and poachers, the entitled or deeply mislead
let my body take the fall
rest
Sometimes the frogs don’t sing at night
police sirens wail
bodies hit pavement the way chicken breasts smack cutting boards
season with pepper to taste
mourn
Sometimes I wander the streets at night
hug street lamps
they cut down 49 trees outside my office this spring, all healthy
window watch with impuissant unease
hope
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