for my sons
A red spot on his face attracts a demon
hummingbird, who appears to kiss
a kind of kiss of death's near miss,
each of my boys hearing
its thrumming
wings beating about
their wounds quick
as their hearts
speed with fright
once
a melanoma's diagnosed;
their twin
bravado sets
like pitch against
their deaths,
and soon, we are
heretics in this.
