The Snare (I & II)
The Snare (I)
Please shut up. When I emerge wild,
the golden lake over my shoulder,
I will take into account the promise
you entangled me in.
Similar to the negative torso
holding up the tree roots
I ask you to be gentle.
Everything will wobble
otherwise When you’re not here
something crawls into the hole
and doesn’t think.
Patience is expendable.
Go deeper with me.
Break any final symmetry.
I think this body is an instrument.
I grow like a graft.
It might be useless
to try to place
what stucco home
sprung me fully formed.
How often I thought
of my network of parts.
And I thought of yours.
Wheeling we get married
and I use my new mechanisms.
The Snare (II)
How do we know
how to send the codes from one end
to the other of the last sunken terminal?
If I were to lie down and go to pieces
I could imitate the echo in the marl.
A lord’s hand made me whole again,
my corpse the fledgling map of the new world.
A lord smiles like a turning wing
and hovers over noon churning.
All the parts were plain to see, the parish,
the barnyards, veins and ligatures.
They cover me with hay
until I am gone.
These locusts buried in the riverbank. They hatch
and fly further. They cluster with force,
they eddy and course into my yawn.