i am well aware that the name belongs to a pig

LITERARY MAGAZINE
I swallowed his flames
like flames swallow moths
God! I want so much of everything,
all of the time
I never found your brown corduroy
It’s six in the morning and I’m punch-drunk on smell. A sunbird is
my teeth hurt
rattling around
The pull of the brush,
knots and static
Days were just getting humid when the prairie dogs were spotted in the cemetery