Give me a functional team
with social capital, 
she barks and purrs in 
suites, ties that 
surround your queen, broke. 
All sawdust misting, hello, 
here I am again
by your back porch
your chaise lounge
your steps, working. 
Hummingbirds mistake her eyes 
for portals in glass jars, 
carved from a meteor
left in King Tut’s tomb. 
Her heart is a reed-poor frog pond
while she’s fortune’s 500 or more
nowadays knowing how easy 
it is, 
she arrives at her own door and 
plans obstacles and waits for 
the sin issue to be over.