I.
rip up the turf
peel apart the layers
deep as I can get
knowing that creation at first resembles
demolition
everything at the moment raw
but the earth patient
bodies cast off infection
but the paper, curious
drinks the ink into itself
V.
we settle down
finally arrived at the place
we feared existed
it is not like the rest
not like the wave
that sifts blood
from the body
not like that
but covert
as twilight
like the branches
that wait to inscribe this
in still water
we close our eyes
to better follow along
grope in the dark
and find something
only to lose it again
imprint hard
on each other
prepared to chase the tracks back out
X.
I sit by an open window
the night doesn’t sneak in
but becomes part of the room
a bridge to the cold outside
he smokes a pipe, or perhaps it’s I
and the smoke smells like a fireplace
like what once was
a forest