Those Zig Zag Boys
They topped the curb
into Christmas time
crime season, purse
snatching supervillians
riding old motocross
getaway mobiles—
my grandmother’s
satchel bag contents
meant to package me
up happy and holiday
proper gone like trunk
smoke snaking up out
of a getaway car another
bedtime story incinerated
overtaking the reindeer
absorbed on my worn
mattress worldview
door slammed shut on
the late toy sale
Happy New Year
It’s all New Years
banners, glitter horns,
empty bottles, body
glow, and noisemakers,
except for those guys
passing club drugs not
wanting to hear victims
scream like a fringed
squawker—working
silently as tomorrows
detectives gathering
untested rape kits
stacking up higher
than the lunch trays
in school cafeterias
