Hustlers with Bad Timing Poem by D. A. Powell

That pip in the pear is a blackbird. Tussle on the grass a grackle. It is officially spring. Watch:

Some kids pulling up BURIED WATER PIPE flags. And next to them the little violets. Rain violets. The flags are blue.

The sycamores are just greening. "The world in fact is just,' Chaos said. And we believed him, who called himself

the most difficult thing he could think of. He wanted to get into the club. The club he was clubbed outside of.


Later, it'll matter that there's no marker. Before he was Chaos, Robin he was, because he stole. Was blank before.

A bronze angel thoughtfully placed for all who grieve a child. Of course a child. What else might you have lost.