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Sloth
I watch YouTube—
instead of watching
painted skies, trying to mimic
brushstroke for stroke
the finger whorls of gods
smearing burning clouds across
and down into lakes.
Instead—
people dress like cows,
screaming at fainting goats.
I watch YouTube—
instead of watching
my dog chase butterflies
in his sleep. Feet flicking,
kicking as he smiles
through black and white fields
where tiny flower-drinking
insects are the only color
he can see.
Instead—
girls paint themselves
with words, and flash flesh
better, faster, stronger.
I watch YouTube—
instead of watching
the canary talking to me.
Gasping and choking,
his yellow feathers fading
as he dies, a byproduct
of sensitivity.
Instead—
words are wrenched
and retooled, hammered into
lips to be sung again.
I watch YouTube—
instead of watching
the last breath escape my lungs,
ectoplasm like smoke, photographed
in darkness, and probably fake.
But I’ll never know.
Instead—
twin rainbows swim overhead,
quivering voice filming—
oh my god, oh my god.
JKolasch
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