It's simple.

                                                                                      I've imagined
                                                                                          my unrooting

                                the conditions, not
                                quarter-life in

                                , do not crack your entrance seams
                                    you will need them
                                    before you find them


           more scars run up
           rungs of a gene ladder prison

           I know


           I would know

                                                                        patterns, if only

           I saw them


fangs impatient,

come to
                                  hanging cradle
more teeth marks,
more                           through the nest
                                  towards birth/

set the fines,
escape procedure
a seasoning permission
never the drink's
warm dragging, no
                                  these are teeth//

shovel the bloodwell, and
leave                  me
my broken case and for moments                     nothing
                                                                      to pierce
                                                                      nothing to shed
                                                                      nothing on which
                                                                      to drip//
                                                                      this is what I've imagined

a compass spider
weaving simple directions
                                                                      do not be overwhelmed

                                                                      you do not need
                                                                      to even ask for a careful skinning after your death and
                                                                      niether do I

What of this would make me sorrowful?


a body, a bag                                   with a black-eyed navigator
insulating                                  capped vials
uncounted tremors,                                  in long, full leg-gripping
apologies, shame                                  dispassionately tightening
assortments                                  a net, for preserving
flesh and mind                                  and a gutter for the blood

really simple.

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