top of page
The Memory of Swimming
In the history of my birth I arrive onstage
Watching the primary symptom of the affliction.
I move as a red balloon above my body.
I tangle in the limbs.
It was there I remembered:
An animal is precious.
We give them nothing but our names.
A lake is not unlike
the shallow pit of an eye socket
wet & uneasy a lake is
Say a small brown beetle lands on the pad of my thumb. Whose crime is it?
I feel comfortable around invertebrates and
their helmet spines.
To sing a hymn to birth to sing
to comfort on roads without any houses,
too slick for houses
Among beetles I sing a hymn
Birds love to tell me I don’t belong here
I don’t know what it means to be
Only how to cry
in the grass
bottom of page