On the Decline of heartbeats and

like an anthem the tree that
stood in place of my father

decelerates into wind. I watch
from a shattered window fragments

of blood disgorged after the
firing squad matched out of town.

what is this thing,
this thin, this thi, this th, this…

muteness is an alarm’s
way of expressing fear.

observe this morning as it spasms,
spin into wool and then dress—

all the boys in my town either die
or get girls pregnant and die.

where do I want to go with this
again? do you really care to know?

Younglan Talyoung