Nothing but Villas in Tuscany

when he comes home
steer heavenward
like a movie about flying into the sun


airlift cattle to a terrace with orange trees
I’m the last thing he wants
nothing to see from here but villas in Tuscany


computer his raw pet
bone bad
spinning silk in his lap


sky stops giving out lilac trump cards
I retreat to the windowsill
enough small cows there to flatten a city