Poetics

xlii

first I return to names
& the shape of demise —
everything remains in
the dead space of not
knowing, not reaching.
we sit watching
kids in the skateboard park
fall and hurt and laugh,
only in the way we
must laugh at our awkwardness
so that others’ laughter
will not secretly hurt us.

all the intermissions of
this body, its rise and fall
& curious laugh — if we still
built alters and shrines,
— would be yours,
in they way we claimed ownership
without responsibility.
& you’d still be sitting in the park,
wondering if we had the right
names for the coded body.

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