Little drummer boy

James Bowden

Here I am at your door, humbling
myself. With a gift of watermelon
pickle, or popcorn and fruit snacks,
or a man’s soul bound in paper. I’ll
take off my shoes, leave my ego at
the door, and bare my soul, too–
would you like a hug? I scoffed
when I read the part about the
lady’s horses dying, because so
much else was dying around
Ocean. I am sorry. We are all
penetrable.

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This, in reference to Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous in paper and in scene, as well as a funnily-titled book of poems targeting children called A Gift of Watermelon Pickle. Pa - rum pum pum pum.