Parading

breathing poems

around the phonograph, which is the grooved

from the speeding passage of time, and so maybe

Behold the customary loves and friendships – the cold guards

as before, fingers perfectly

and our hopes such as they are

We fray into the future, rarely wrought

the oryxes with their black matching horns,

I have made this place around you.

her brain, bone, and the dangerous shreds