TWENTY-TWO WEEKS

Nights lit up with a timer. Our programmable nests

evolving new synonyms. Spring is a thermostat,

a due date, a flutter. Some products are just simple

sums, but there is a harder green: multiplication

that fails to ripen. For now, well-bound prospectus, glow

on a branch. I read aloud and current children cheer.

“Oh, wie schön ist Panama!” A bear and a tiger

setting sail in a crate with the scent of bananas.