why do you sing to me like I’m you my gone and dead singer

o train I could run through a shocked public face

are you not the angry star of your own tomb-filled churchyard

a sky collapsing with love underneath your feet

savage brittle torso tell me about your moral resignation

textured so tightly as to set down a careening

archetype of fidelity and mumble a sea

of gelatinous futures not in the evident shadow

but in service of its game a jewelry box spectrally bound

with internet valium your future your way lights

out forward through time to arrive and call things by name

as a technician would determining pain toleration

around a weapons cache as in the home

all intimate details are details the truce creaks

the trawl asks questions it’s too late to escape

the dirty clutches of life onto a dummy raft

practicing kindness trauma with glee

the axe in access twirling to believe