policital and all, in glass

let there be silence. and plenty.
let there be end tables. breasts. buoys.
let there be exit ramps. breasts. balls.

when, what essentially I made off with was your stair.
like a tunnel grieves a view of the sky:
all the emptiness between my teeth is a gift.

pray down the mirror our reflection says we
see through. your new lover on one side of the street.
your new bicycle. and then, therefore, you.

pray down a rope around the syllable
that haunts us. the narrative that continually takes
itself too seriously. a symphony of strangulated rests.

our music undone periscopically.
the pornography remains inexhaustible.
a white flag fading at the root.

and what void can we still find our way into.
victimless.
a hand signaling daylight to the sky.

a myelin mouth frozen open in the bedroom.
what you recognize is not me, is (not) me.
that, inside the body which is not your body

to defibrillate, your plastic hands articulate a bruise.
(I love you more with your pants down.) pray down an overpass.
because a demonstrative is lingering in the airway.

all pedal and unfrozen – will you see me?
pray down a casino and then a cornfield in the coda.
(prayitdownprayitoverpassmeoverprayitdownpassitoverprayitback)

tooth enamel is the strongest substance in the human body.
shame is not something we carry.
it multiplies in the recesses of our mouths.

because one hand still reaches into the empty.
pray down the pressure of your hand on my body.
a violence of comfort and request.