Baptized in flys
Piss in the pool
A suburban brine
High register coo
Settles in cool silt (Marco)
She's doing pirouettes underwater
Fluted waves spreading outwards
Through verdant but inexperienced turf
Up the grey leg of patio table
Through a glass of rose petal juice
Her dim father sweats like the glass
He’s wondering about Kismet
And why they put stones in peaches (polo)
Full of Bosnian domestication
And SPF 50+ provocations
Thin veil of chlorinated vapor
Wet white T-shirt sticking
Like tissue paper
Mother's silence outlasted them all
Echoing like reverb down a convent hall
The new faux marble statue on the front lawn
Has a strange gravity
For the neighborhood children and their balls
Carved from the same stone
As an ethnic crypt
Artificial sweeteners and late-night radio listeners
Remain indifferent that it exists.
This works.