A woman so thin her ribs
bruise her back. A man full up
with cancer. The celebrity
and his estranged mother, dead
of suicide. What royalty lives
here? Who governs such a place
where children sleep on floors?
I hold to something I can’t unlock
my grandmother gave before
her bone marrow turned, something
like a gun, something like a puzzle
of wood that, worked out, is only more
wood through and through.