Is the root disturbance
the man at twelve,
the unlocked doors?
Is the root cause
his teeth scraping
against your bottom lip?
Which is to say, is his tongue
the root cause of why
you don’t like your oysters raw?
Does your fastidiousness
point back
like an arrow?
Do you remember
the airless room,
a pillow, a bear,
a beast? A snap, a zipper, was he Zeus?
What thundered in the room?
Were you still as a tree?
What answers can be found?
Drink, chastity,
perseverance, solitude?
The opening of a maw
that is cavernous,
unknowable—?