Advice for Haitian Boys
“Something like 40 to 50 percent of the population at Port-au-Prince is kids.”
Girls’ skirts will open for nothing, for a song
just loud and long enough to minus out
the scratch of zipper teeth and second thoughts.
Don’t bother with names. By morning, you should be gone.
When brothers die, drink more rum than you can afford.
Cry, if you need. Piss circles around the bodies
and brawl anyone who abuses your right to grieve.
There are no excuses to outsurvive the adored.
Sometimes loss comes vaster. Whole cities fall,
bloodlines sever. There will always be some stranger
to shoo away the dust and flood paint thinner
on the stains. You won’t have to do a thing at all.
O that a man’s reach should not exceed his grasp.
Don’t plan ahead, don’t think it through. Don’t ask.
