I puke sand
into the infant’s
mouth
in low
praise
of the male
form
made
famous
by a statue
that sold
not
for its representation
of a dominant
existence
but for
the delicacy
with which
its creator
handled
the angel’s
erection
on the life of his mother
loneliness
was the spell
he could not
recall
you will not come across the alien I was molested by.
I replaced myself
like the nothing
that happened.
you can
in fact
eat your silence
forever
–
I don’t want my food
to tell a story
–
talk to me
of light, of mother’s
milk, talk
is for the hungry
–
ask my hands
–
it is always dark
in the baby
you’re having
and in the dream
I’m
I am at the truck
getting ice cream
for the overly
nostalgic
girl
who refused
to cut through
the cemetery
you will never be
a virus
–
the animal’s moment of bliss
before it is named
–
masturbation
as the seizure
had
by hologram
–
the cyclone
that makes a baby
you can’t
put down
the father is a one-man show
of seasonal darkness.
the mother is clockwork.
the child is the child born
wearing
a tight
shirt.
the loaf of bread is the hot heart of nightfall.
the cut is a city
attracted
to a blood drive. the blood drive
is god’s treehouse.
as ahistoric
exit
music
plays
you leave
the beast
in the bitch
of its
amnesia
–
themes for prey
–
infant cinema
dreamt
I was nude
on rice
beach
–
dreamt a mother had gone to the desert
for fish
her son’s
fish
could eat
while swimming
–
two martyrs
share a camera
both
call
touch
–
dreamt sleep
was the eye’s
blood
relative
burn the scarecrow
your mother
translates for.
make your daughter
believe
that a virgin
is a nobody, that a somebody
does her own
stunts.
hire
grief’s interpreter
on a part-time
basis
to blow
your son
in your son’s
presence.
as a symbol of your absence
disappear.
