there’s dogshit in the yard.
there is always dogshit in the yard.
three dogs in the neighbor’s house and they all shit in the grass we share.
dogshit minefield. and this october’s a hot one so
the stink of it seeps into our kitchen.
so much shit the whole outside couldn't contain the flies.
so julia bought paper and now i wait to watch the black dots stack up
on the slick of it. when one of em gets stuck by just its little leg
i push it into the goo with my finger and wonder if the neighbors saw me
and wonder when i got so comfortable with killing
the things that make me uncomfortable. we keep the windows open for
the flies and the stink. and for the light.
for the light and the breeze that tickles the flypaper.
and when there’s no light or breeze there are still the sounds.