the sky suddenly deep with
the weight
of approaching autumn
the poems like small miracles
or minor saints
like ordinary men shot dead
on quiet streets
in front of their wives and children
and i want to tell you that
the violent acts of strangers don’t matter
but you turn away
i want you to believe
that love is some sort of salvation
but i can never say it with
a straight face
look at gandhi
look at lennon
think about what it means
when a newborn baby is found
in a knotted plastic bag on
