Gravity Deleting Siren
Can I – shining –
reach for it,
dot remembrance with glitter
& color, pliable
as unfenced land. The crush,
of hands. I live
& die
by the flamey
shapes of them: Enigma
in the darks of the car, shifting the wrong
hand. Oh, bloated
delirium. I hope
to patrol my expression
In a matrix of levers & knobs, but
cannot swallow the twisted street: