Today's poem is by Dean Young

Three-Hearted Poem

There's a slight knock at the door
and when I open it, there's a mailmansized
moth. That's how I know I've shrunk
even more than the last time when
a blue cloud told me I was drunk,
I was always drunk so from now on
that door's gonna have to answer me.
And you know what? Ain't nothing
I need to ask. Not if there' re any more
cashews left. Not if there's a god.
A few years back when I was among some humans,
we all agreed it was a terrible idea
to drop acid and go to chemistry lab.
So we did. Of course it got personal.
Then later when my father was dying
and it was my turn to watch, I could see
even that wasn't going to be easy.
Even then they wouldn't let you smoke.
Even then the staples holding on your face hurt.
Even then you could be entirely mistaken
about your place in the sky.

Copyright © 2016 Dean Young All rights reserved
from Shock By Shock
Copper Canyon Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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