anyway,
the fish swam from memory, worked
generationally. turned when their crew did, 
flashed quickly out of reach, wrote it down 
in stone. archivists of silt, of threshold, of hook 
and sinker, of the never ever i hold. the near miss. 
sky is pathetic tonight, but i’ll do what i came here 
to do: imitate language, imitating love. experience 
aggrieved me but i refuse to place blame on 
the paradise down below that wraps my ankles.
monster shit, under the bed present with
fresh death, ferocious death. your breath 
so hot it burnt my finger. before loneliness 
chose me, varsity bitch off the bench, clinch 
hitting the precipice, the never ever beyond, 
like the law we wrote together, only to destroy 
like dogs left alone all day, clawing at the heart 
of a pure and uncomplicated gaze out the window. 
head cocked to oblivion. there is nothing i could say 
to solve the world that made us, and changed us
for good. i swore the last word wasn’t  the last 
word, but the incision freaked the literal color 
of the sky. clouds gathered, showing you the feeling, 
dispersing only when i nodded, when i said thank you 
thank you for being here in the sky with me, 
as if with understanding i could induce my own 
asceticism, induce the world to become habitable 
for at least tomorrow, if not today.