Poet Dean Young

continued

Sad humans. You start out grasping

at something you can't see

and stay that way. It doesn't matter

if you're made of cardboard and glitter

or celestial exhale, you've been out in the rain

too long. You try to protect your sister

and she shacks up with Queequeg. You try

to protect your son and he takes up hang-

gliding but he's not butterfly,

he plummets, he does not hover.