1724 c/o Wyatt Sparks


Can I find you
wry lipped imp
in delicate trees
and jaundiced skin

Oh shit,
would you look
at this kid’s

you are brief but dramatic
feral children found
with gazelles, monkeys
and dogs all
but you,
you are with bears
at birth
and that is something new to me

They keep talking
about she-bear and suckling
They keep talking
about your yellow skin red eyes and why
you can’t speak beyond grumbles

the sin is
they buried you with
your bad name,
the Wild Boy,

money is money, yes
but flowers are flowers
next to rock and forever
for a moment