You can’t place me. I could be any
thing in the summer
when my tan has vacationing ladies
in Williamsburg touching my arms, wet gaze on my frizz—​
can you believe I’m from where you are, lady?

glint of blade, peeled back
skin, all the pigs but one growing restless
because no one’s taught them terrified
or necessity or how to keep a whole town
fed

I exist outside of time.
You open the door, and beneath your bare feet
crunches glass, wind rushes
into your eyes. You open your hands,
and husks and ashes dance
in an unending chain.

ALKA SELTZER PICOT ANTACID ROCAINOL OINTMENT SYRINGE

"I fear the power of the image, how it changes nothing / except myself, how it is never just an image, how the boy lives / now under my bitten fingernails how

When he reaches his thick arm
towards you, you might not realize

where he is aiming. You might not understand
until he seizes you, until you’ve already caught

his dirty fat hand, and spun the both of you so that now
you face each other.