Light consumes itself in space and under a bridge, in a howling river,
in a bag, beneath the floorboards, in her apartment, in a field,
on fire, in the trunk of a car, in a dank basement,
in Montreal—
We look into a stippled sky where somewhere seven Earth-like planets
spin quiet around a distant dwarf star—
a foundling.
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I am wilting, wanting, a fly-swatting socialite.
I arrive in time to be in sync with grammar.
I am naked in a dust jacket. I am polite,
Writing an embossed lunch invite to the biosphere.
K
Let’s catapult the conchoidal colocynth
Let’s catapult the choephori of the coliddors of the tifth
and the mitten cruncher, the tomcat cruncher, crunchers of sheep
note cruncher, crunch-in-your-mouth and in arms and in deaths.
Let’s catapult the lynx and the oriole’s cochineal mantilla
let’s catapult the mango
and the mongoose, shoo!
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When the subway swerves
around the track, it captures
the city as a closing aperture
in an iPhone’s reflection.
A woman teaches her son to say
garbage repeat after me. I turn away
On 5th Avenue, O’Hara stopped,
lit a cigarette,
breathed in the smoke,
and looked at the sky.
My father stopped and smoked, too,
maybe even at the same time,
inhaled, exhaled,
and looked at the same sky.
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