The children
go out and reupholster
the day, strip themselves of asylum.
It’s expensive and costs us a fever. It’s
A matter of economic autonomy and I get the
selfishness of it; age suckles the bone and deploys a decay.
When I was a child, there were no lights. When I was a child
I burrowed in inflexible flesh. Give me your excuse and we’ll trade.
I’m a mess tonight. I’m unleavened and bellying in mercy. I get high and
then I’m a hearty catch. You can’t un-see me, you’re already sewn
in, I’m already a stiff hazard, you already want to be a subject
drowning. Ok, one more until a light goes out. Ok, one
more until this song stops corroding. You’re
a one-stop shop and I’m an Atlantic
embargo. No, I’m keeping
this one as memento.
I get to collect
what I win.