Things That Frighten Me
More Than a Swooping Bee

A swooping robin.

A swooping robin who brought a friend.

A swooping robin who brought the whole family.

A family attack.

A family attacking me
                 who doesn’t even love me.

My own family
                 attacking me.

My own family attacking me with swooping Bible verses
                 after reading my love letter.

Not being able to leave
                 my love open.

Not being able to leave my mouth
                 open like a baby robin.

A baby robin without a nest.

A nest made of love letters, launched into a landfill,

A swoop of flames.

A chest on fire from a flock full of family
                 accusing me of premarital sex.

A robin’s chest on fire because
                 that’s all he knows, because

His whole family’s chest on fire,
                 whether he

Swoops with them
                 or

Stays in the blazing nest.

Please Forgive My Excitement

upon learning of a New York suicide.
Please forgive me for identifying
with the method implemented: a free
fall from a flung
faux-forest top. My tears, please
forgive me for not
knowing where they come from.
Please me forgive if they come
from a place not named
sadness, because that’s very likely
the case. Please forgive me for delighting
in the fact that this story, forgive the media,
is getting national attention.
Please forgive me, for I, too, would cry
for national attention, for I,
too, have cried tears
saddened, and I, too, have scaled
trees tops and pondered
which warbly river might carry me
to port through portal,
against all odds, please forgive me
for having researched the odds,
forgive my every gamble,
my every water drop,
my every joyful tear when I should be
mourning, please
forgive me. Forgive me for being
excited about the next morning.