I’m not ready to go on,
the room this song fills silence drawn over a cage
to approximate


I’m blackarmor bobbing in 
the breathing lake
give my name to the ensoulment 

whose war it’s been
to wrestle
free from this old

knocked-spasmodic satellite
who wades ashore to work 
like a square

the slow fade
in Abyssinia
I know

the paywalled episodes of youth as if in stone cold recovery
I tried
to strike poor fauna

from what poems
I admit to 


step on your
colonial geometry like carpet to be laboratory tested
if you let me give these heathen holidays their confirmation names:

arbitrage of

lightpath regulated by the bears again

Gabriel Palacios is a poet living in Tucson, Arizona. He serves on the editorial staffs of DIAGRAM and The Volta. Recent work appears in The Laurel Review, Poetry Northwest, Fugue, DREGINALD, and elsewhere.