1: inside of (say ear
(say
dream
(say, insert pronoun, we digress
2: fingers slipped,
the poet reads a poem about war & insects
(drones
a diagram of how we arrived: once i was
alone
you, outside time appear (how ghosts
continue
3: sound edges, a fingerprint identifies, (of what handled
touch in
place of genocide, touch in place of where the bullet carved
4: clearly not, the treble of sound, or images rising in a
throat of huddled, we secret, unsaid pressure of caught (and to not fly, or this not skied
vision, i have no idea if that’s the way
it works, you reveal)
5: once i made a promise. it went like this: i won’t kill
myself until i have seen every Bergman film
6: your thumb is never fair in the language of undoing how
sure i am.
7. in your story, the woman fades. it’s not clear which of
us is her. we both want and fear permanence and so, we are clearly both him,
the artist painting desire into folds, looping eyes on (& here we churn waters deep enough
8. (press
into me where we mimic your
grasp shutters
9: i’ve been in this story so long, i think i am the poet,
am the girl, am the one held, am the one trying to disappear, am the other
pushed aside, am inside you whispering, can you hear (i am the instrument with the mark of
–you,
transparent quartz
10: duality of poem’s staccato & squeezing the tip of my
finger between your own
(i
hear what those around us secret but
w/ you i am afraid of what holds
11: and the seven
angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound
12: puncture wounds caress along inseams of doubt (touch
the string softly
i stop moving
13: un/sound :: dark
eros links form, you warm against & don’t lie, i can pocket anything
unnoticed, even sing memory into being, even sing a discarded collapse into
light
love still,
Megan
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