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this is the place to be suspicious, the place of photons and decibels // there is no peace, no peace // and if I forced the fall // could I? // who would ever find the

emergency // it’s me // pretend it’s the time of our lives. everything goes right until nothing does // you are all so good at waiting // this is a pause party, a

paralysis party, a do nothing so that you feel nothing party // he wants no disturbance, she wants no touch // and it’s as if we’ve never known anything at all. the body

is too much like the winter snow is too much // I am imagining myself house shaped // and I don’t know where I’d rather be, but I guess I’ve chosen to be here.

This poem was originally published in LUMINA XVIII.