I stood security the first six weeks.
Nobody minded the moon. The sun
you could reason with. Other
We smuggled a tunnel whole into the withering mountain:
a gut, an intubation,
fed it along length by strenuous length. Now &
then it kinked & squirmed. The mountain bristled hackles.
A few of us ran out of the same
time a few of us ran into: collisions, versions
& revisions of the vanishing act.
Before, since, I never scrambled so from fear.
The only camouflage is to lick oneself
newborn, covered with hide in the first place.
Dire symptom, to wake up
in a headache, plus I forget what it’s of.
Afflictions’ placebos rev & throb down neural
runaways whose fancy flights collide:
let the airport owls win one. Empires away,
let the ragtag militants win one.
Or my nerves keen for a cigarette.
I’d pinch it in half, or some passerby’s
castoff goodsize butt. Distract: o
rememberize to me my first truelove,
the one not you, but I hasten I do
truelove you too– ever a next angelic & silkish
razzledazzle about, as if each brushoff-my-
shoulder might shrug itself into a wing.
As a scatter of barley summons insipid
soup to its next ingredient, so kicks-in
in-this-moment’s flashmob & whoops along
snarling a traffic of orange flagpersons at play.