death I cause I result in
breaking heads along the highway. burial
as it ﬁts between transit. buttons make time stop
and shirt buttons make time not work for me
faulting clothes to shame physics. time as a round thing
I fumble to break our paradox meant to save
to leave machines. each dream ends on a hill.
each leaving the stadium night indoors a day and things growing
past the margins
I’d better say sorry among grass. an easy shape pushing upward.
re-recording the sound of my own hands.
I came to ﬁx the you to him, to ﬁx him down, the ﬁner parts of the arm. the him
so mechanic. he became for me and hid—I tore—the arm I took. my mouth healed.
I clamored and crushed, hid in the bathroom, hid myself disrobed—
we grow further and wild. our hair will save us. will string
at the edge of the sea, I uncover. you await away, aloft.
another him comes for me—I don’t. he’s all displaced,
the she apart from I unaware. I would have saved him.
I would be for you, where anything is ﬂat and discerning,
ﬁngers ﬁxing each other to wind or nothing, to no holds to go to,
where I can’t see structures, only people
the cold comes for her, the water on land and the water
in the rain. half of me was wet in tokyo. the half
run hot. on the sides, one shoe ﬁlled up with water.
the you took the north with him but she
is still there for me.
from the cracks in the living, I spread, losing directions
but a map replaces. I understand cities now. I’ve seen the open ﬁelds
swallowing themselves and known their faces from the plane.
there is where I knew myself. not here. here the land
will never take me under.