[If my skull were a circle of light]

If my skull were a circle of light

I would use it unfairly.

 

After you were mesmerized

I would place my tattoo,

 

and setting you down, I’d

read you what I am reading

 

until you spoke it with me.

Next, I’d take a long walk

 

as the tides bring in the next

waves of damaged fish woven in glowing polyps.

 

To erase the record

of any potential transaction

 

I would make myself into a cherub

and install myself back

 

into the painting from which

I think I arrived most recently.

 

My book, which is the only one

with much in it worth reading

 

for your sake, doesn’t germinate

in your abdomen. Don’t get excited.

 

I’m the last cycle

of a perpetual murmur,

 

and my reasons are byzantine.

These dealings in high wind,

 

they break on the high rocks,

and I couldn’t replace them if I tried.