I found a cockroach in the sink.
I couldn’t kill it, so I let it struggle.
Hours later I saved it with a paper and a cup.
It wanted to kill me. It didn’t run away
Like an ordinary beetle. It raised its arms,
Moving like a Sumo wrestler, heavy
In its backside, and light as a feather
Up near its tiny fists.
When it played dead at the bottom of the glass,
I dropped it between two cherry trees.
You were asleep in the bed. You were trying to see out
From under your eyelids. You were sort of smiling.
Sometimes I drink a beer in the morning.I like the cold shock on the tongue; I like the mercy.