It's happened.
For a moment, I'm living right

Flynn, 11 months, trusting me as we dance on the deck

The blond Corona plugged with a wedge of lime

The crack of small bones and the glimpse
Of the blood-stained hawk

The first bat of evening, skimming the creek
for a drink

& the creek itself

& the steam from the creek

& the brazen car
& its dust in my nose 

& I am Christopher Smart,
praising fresh horseshit

an open pipeline to God.