the plan-
et revolves
around
the sun.
The moon
joins too
soon. A
crow on a
wire is
worth two
on a cell-
phone.
“It ain’t
the plan-
et that’s
dyin’,” says
my Grandma
Hazel in
my head,
“it’s the
roll of a
pair of dice.”
Which
makes
“paradise”
her last
exhalation.
Another
game of
trivia that
the saints
play like
chess
while
we pond-
