the fall brushes in with hands open and I begin to writhe from the shape of my jeans—
denim form compared to his and I imagine that I have been sent
to take my own body off the world
with the sole reason of unpleasance and even a tug at some reincarnate edition
there is an oracle in Tucson, Arizona and when winter pours over
I will go with the undead of my closest family—
less than half of them
to the Gallery in the Sun, I am in the image of god
and still an aggravation on earth with my new name a pain and twinge
in the neck of a mother
I try to recall that I am not at fault for the Virgin Mary’s redemptive suffering
and we attempt to forget the redemptive suffering we have been told is ours to carry
and we prayed to each other
to see the edges of an exchanged body is known by how it is not
who first spoke of me
to let loose the grip of convention is
a hand has been careful and has been sleeping against my ribs
preceding admittance to a closer gleam
I will know more about you than you and you will know more about me than I know