Begin to arrive
Like the toothpaste of his mother’s hug

On the back of a giant moon
Tethered to a memory
Of something more than a cut & broken hand

The soap held rainbows
Held perfect circles
And a perfume that washed
His greased & grimed & bloody paw

He thought of all the papers
Sliding across porches
Banging against screen doors
One breaking a window
Another kissing the mud beside that Corvette