I can hear your ears
it crawled out of me and knew your birthday
a small fire
in the room
with all
the pigs.
a school
without
a shooting.
I can’t make heads or tails of your fervor. I can’t make body. I put a hole in my father and through it watch my mother eat her weight in god. I want what my siblings have. each other, game shows, memory. indigenous amnesia.
to jump
the dream
of audience
that buried
my father’s
rib
I stand
on an operating table
in a circus
tent
and invite
my mother
to believe
all earthquakes
belong
to satan
and not
to the devil
my sister
was
when high
on the body, its boneless
forgetting
the give in my tooth makes me think my father has two left hands.
the give
in my brother’s
brings me
to the tree
that took
his last. to that day
he sang
god is glove
to the hose
that broke
my mother. I am at the end of my blood.
there’s a rareness
to him
not many
see.
owl moon
& ghost
vowel
I am born
back to back…
god removes the mirror from my mother’s mirage
zookeeper reads obituary
was the fruit
made them want
teeth
