Wolf year, illness at the door,
our streets scabbed with police.
Gray jubilee, everyone in,
the party set to begin—
we agree to pretend
the dead didn’t lose
or the monied win.
Everywhere, cities sick
with envy unlock their doors
as, with all the time in the world,
the ground shudders and splits.
Someone somewhere opens a gift.
Ryan Boyd lives in Los Angeles and teaches in the Writing Program at the University of Southern California.