& their meanings; the lift
of curtains & the outside
tendrils look in; the men in
my inner ear not unlike
a wet flower petal stuck
to rock; i cannot participate
in this tapestry of glitches;
the undercurrent: a river;
i am a river; the running
up the stairs; the stars under
the covers; the uncoverings
i must wear; my skin a fabric
not as rough as father’s
mother’s towels; father’s hands
pounding the steep stairs
behind my feet; fear fearing
in the throat; stiller still i
eat our conversations; won’t
stop until one of us does;
still haven’t learned to fuck
love to the end; my becoming
declared war on him; all
the fields remembered after
refusing them; i curl my left
wrist & press knuckles into
the center of my chest;
mother said father curls
his the same way & asked
if i’d noticed; men shake
hands for different reasons
so i recorded a passing train
& played it back in slow-mo
in hopes of understanding
machinery separated into
fragments by its sounds;