Your Emergency Contact Has Experienced an Emergency

Never stop babbling
              to old friends or
              fields about your earliest

                           whiff of banana bread.

Lick the sad
               from the sea & on
               a Tuesday.

                              Flabbergast
                in some earthly

                          mouthful of a way
                      & tonight.

I was a name
everyone in America thought they were saying
right.

How do you tell someone you love them without making them think about one day losing you?

God is a honey / flavored extra strength cough drop. / I am another attempt to confess // I have not read Ulysses.

If we could communicate fully, there would be no need to communicate. If we could love perfectly, there would be no need to love. If we could finish grieving, there would be no need to live. If we could touch completely, there would be no need.

Surely, there is a patron saint of touch, who yes, at the moment is struggling—unlike the brand-new patron saint of branded touchless experiences, whose business has only been expanding. Booming, like a dog’s 3 a.m. holler.

Asking, does the moon ever get sad? // Needing to know, does the moon get terribly sad because it is simply called the moon, & not some fancy Greek name, like the myriad moons of Jupister, like Callisto, for example, from the Greek kallistos, superlative form of kalos, meaning “beautiful”? // Then, knowing: // The moon does not get sad. Or at least, not because of that. // Of that, the moon is terribly proud.