Budding Seans

Seans, I’ve know not five
my whole life, all with cropped hair
and a penchant for mischief
like kicking the dog. I need Seans
or had I known none, I’d be different
than the sap I am today.
Marry me, Seans. Or be mine.
Off in the world Seans grow beard,
and further Seans wait to arise
and be made human. Out of the bushes
their arms fling, wave after wave, and
each night, more are spooned
from the fog, placed on wax,
and expected, fast, to ripen up.

Cody Ernst’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in 32 Poems, Best New Poets, Copper Nickel, and elsewhere. He lives in San Francisco. 

“Budding Seans” was originally published in Bat City Review Issue 12.