blind(on.demand)
he.searches(for.a.cable);
my.belt(wasn’t.enough);
like.an.exemplary.pious.devotee
i.kneel;
cuticles.torn,
confirming(bone.is.mine);
spine.drawn.straight;
no.pew;
tools.laid.out;
elbow.lengths(folded);
carpet.indented(by.figures)
struck.for.impropriety;
time.behaves.badly;
it.pools;
backflows;
air(impatience.flavoured);
i.weep(not.for.the.stings)
but.for.the.mother
who.lined.her.children
stilled.across.the.room;
the.oldest—
one.eye.forever.closed;
the.other(wide.open);
i.too.squint;
half.witness;
half.blind(on.demand);
lacquered.lashes—
won’t.testify;
just.like.mine;
temper&breath(short);
hands(switch.tools);
spine(receipt.printed);
grace.postured;
tobacco_fumed.light(stagnates);
dust.settles;
small.church(built.of.perception);
curtains
learn
to.drown;
my.face(salted);
dressed.in(purple.blue);
i.reside(under.your.skin);
subdermal;
permanent;
tell.me
this.isn’t.power.
[image.credit: John Drysdale 1956]



Your writing derranges in the most impressive, philosophical yet heartfelt way possible .
That last line stings. Wow.