Consider

For a moment,
forget your
first born son.
Then makeshift
a sack to load
up his shit,
so that he can
admire the
covers of
the books
he brought with.

No candles lit.
I lip-low real
soft because
if I were to
disturb the
cowlicked
stalks of the
black corn sea,
they would
rally the lightning
bugs to strike me.

I have many more failures
before I can come home.