Concrete forms like a scab over the earth— warm and alive. Wading into

the unknowable, my body is paired and mirrored back to me. I grieve my

own passing. Orbit around multiples. Where do I stop and start? A young

boy blows bubbles through the bars of a fence. There is a long procession

from the bus stop. Droplets beaded on coarse grass. Bristling feathers,

talons, death on wings, a splinter in my side. Unspeakable, amorphous

existence.