after Adrianne Lenker I was supposed to be writing you back I was supposed to be describing my desires The moment I plugged my ears, not the clouds on the ceiling How the heat doesn’t burst Where you sheered the gap with your thighs, a black skirt A glossy rainbow beetle eating a lanternfly A wasp displaced from the splintered wood door How rain flattened the sky Blank lightning scorching the undone bed My chest flat with bones which don’t die Bones, which persist like hair, inanimate, as stones persist Mostly green indifferent appetites When the animal god dies it’s spoiled with worms When anger reaches its iron tongue inside it burns I used to get off on a small, concentrated sensation It took years to undo the glue of experience It’s a big gap for mood It’s a dark stripe in the darkness It’s how I remember nothing in particular Tracks of metal gridding the street How a body could produce an iron nail if iron in blood assembled I didn’t think I came but I must have How angry it made me, the indignity of not touching The gauzy light on a woman’s face, her idle desires Compared to the way we fit two hands inside, hungry How indifferent to particular folds of skin There was a bottomlessness to the negations Whatever it was burning gold inside a ring of nots I, untied, dispensing promise A commitment of green circling green only Not what you might think, a hawk in the dead tree A velvet rope cordoning Nothing eventful happened so I forgot it That’s how life moving through space works Comparing the size of palms, smoothness of thighs Caught in a loop I knew from history Not capital, not significant, of a personal nature A solemn quality of knowledge, what others might call god Hair collected in an archive versus Hair drawn in a long strand from one’s crevices My horoscope says to do the smallest thing possible The trees say indifferent rattle in the wind This was life, normal, tidal, I considered it The dead papering the street with their notices  


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