A Rooster In The Garden
Sundin Richards

Torqued in the
     folds of a city
I’m happy with my
     little family
 
The cat asleep
     on the bright
table content as
     a
 
Month of Sundays
     born lucky
in a silver
     endowment
 
All roads are perfect
     as long as the cash
holds out we attend
     ourselves with errantry
 
Old ruffians get
     new clothes
slower hope than
     traffic allows
 
Here with my smog
     and ruin
the bride wakes up
     singing

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