One time in twenty the dice fall flat,

the doggy nabs the rabbit in his sleep, the

weathervane squeaks a north-northwest

and it’s a good wind, it’s a sound

and valid wind, with you in it, one time

in twenty, and all of everything else

makes numbers on hands waving, waving

hello, how are you? The doggy wakes up, older,

now he’s older, and on his tongue is something sweet

like blood, and he blinks into a day.