Civilization

this morning I pay $109 to have my cat killed

because he’s almost dead

I hold him in the sterile room crying and crying

until someone comes with the syringe

later I’m still a monster

and upon that monster it cries and cries a motherlode of snow

and I disappear until the spring melt

the alarm clock turns green because it’s time to wake up

all the trees making green plans

all the bodies becoming soil

all fifty-six ongoing armed conflicts around the planet

the planet seen from outer space

but now all I can see is this monster poem

this poem witnessing its own monstrosity

as the spring sun comes closer

conjuring baby-green leaves from their buds

my daughter wants to glue glitter to everything

or cut everything up with scissors

marshmallow clouds sailing over the recycling plant

the sad red van parked near the group home on Selby

selling drugs to the recovering drug addicts

the IMAX movie about a single breath

the one breath ever breathed

the hole in which we placed the cardboard box

in which we placed our dead cat

later in the dark I sing “Amazing Grace”

my daughter so close to sleep

the streetlight in the alley turns on