Poetry

I eat sugar cookies for breakfast.
I should eat bird seed.

for years I’d be the cranky older son,
jealous about the party.

I begged them:
“Keep the money. Just give me
the photos of my family.”

Thank you for never complaining about being in a cage.

My defense is these:

I am the happiest kid near the diamond.

What man has made now makes him

Most of my kind, when they come,
take pleasure in blinding you

Give us a magic trick,
but not a miracle.