Matthew Zapruder

FEBRUARY

I couldn’t get the copier to work
so I stared at it like a monolith

stares at an ape wishing
it would use the tools

provided for its evolution
outside the birds divide the spoils

regarded by some squirrels nobly
paired in colloquy

on a promontory the lions
outside the abandoned library

guard archaic enthusiasm
you can only touch

under a green lamp
with authenticated eyes

poems are so strange
it seems no one needs them

but really we die
in our own hearts

someone is always just about to have written
their eyes dispensing

tears of hilarity
‍the final beam of sunlight

has wandered onto my forehead

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