Eratta

Where it says plastic dinosaur

Read the churning snap of nostalgia

Where it says green read

The color of me in sideways-breathed-prayers

Hovering over static water

Where it says water

Read the manic, condescending lectures your father once gave you

That you’re now giving me

When you think of me

You should think of the last drop of light

Think of wind-blown milkweed and nocturnal trains through Ohio cornfields

Where it says soul

You should read dust particles descending in a humid room

The electrified insect-buzz of late summer should be a warning

Put an asterisk there

And where it says blood

Sing Mary Had a Little Lamb

Blot out white as snow

With whatever the hell you want

Forget about the colons:

The large intestines are large enough

To extract meaning

To Novocain-numb

But when you read enough

When you read enough

You should stop.