bleeding

blast it all. blast bruisers
and bullies. blast blighters.
before the bend in the road
blueskies were boring, but
I beg for blue now. I’d barter
my boy to be able to breathe.
my firstborn. it’s a baffling
badness. not mine–but I’ve be-
held the abandoned, all bicker
and bite. Botched babies who
burble in bassinets, bright
bulbs of blank, brimming with
barbarism. It’s rank. Who will
bring up these brawlers? Before
they grow bigger than a bread-
box, they’re brutal.
                                        Birds ebbed
first, then butterflies. Bacteria
bloomed, buckets of bitter, 
barrels of bile. I’m beyond
believing in better. Beauty
is broken. The boys–
bellwethers, beasts.