from the book of hiatus
xviii. My sleep crawls into hers She hovers then holds an aerosol mask over the nose and mouth of our smallest The machine isn't trying to tell us something But cries anyway To its missing stomach If you google Vici Syndrome If you google Bird's beak Most of you have been Already To your last place To me the loudest noise has always been geography Death tells god it wants to die Not knowing where one is Was Heaven and the end of heaven

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