A m i e Z i m m e r m a n —

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I said  mine so many times I began to believe me         pointing to the agate  mine—the toaster oven mine—the mound of rhizome  mine    it does not make   sense now all that ownership  spring was a massacre of sparkling cooked iris   every   millionth time we look we find something that matters

waiting for astonishment  patting what is broken into place      afraid what I leave behind will not be cared for     this abundance will lose elasticity          crisped and   forgetful that with each decade the second   half of my life grows longer   if anyone is to dismantle this wood frame house it should be me

not knowing who is also recognizing a part of me       slices   transparency poorly   governing the lie man pretended   to not care and then did not care     a beeping when backing  up  noise  that does not end mourning dove in the middle of the neighborhood  we had to stand stock still

crickets are the better diviner  warm milk for the mouth   once heard cannot be unheard  do not swallow if swallowing is a   response to pressure on the lips    cruelty I think I could not do I have done   there are no trees that love you back

a fall the fallen a fallen man I am fell

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for the vow we bring copper, laugh. time is recorded by what noise our ears distinguish, length of echo. if here, it means we have begun the signature. feet in mucky shore, squat for the heron, for the dragonfly, for the sweet sturgeon. unbuckle the palm and draw out pollen. reach for the rock and bash through sternum, tired of anything resistant. remember the shoppers who took pictures, who could not look. remember the aura of their fascination. when the bars bent, though, we stayed. waited to be gathered. mud stirs in waters at the headway, eagles watch glass folding in the bonfire. break off my calf, eat first the heel. to remain to remain is joy to remain. mouth a tunnel of praise.

inside this house negotiate numerous covenants: regularly take out bins, buy things, exterminate vermin, feed ourselves, party until we cannot see, eat facing the television. who gains the yoke of covenant now, holding out soft cups of organs? flood takes the garden, river inches closer to foundation. shuffle through the house, where all covenants stand, toenails scraping floorboards, hair brushing the ceiling, so dense, use butter to squeeze between bodies. it takes an hour to get to the bathroom to pee. hard life.

mouth a whetting stone, open sternum a reservoir for oil. vehicle a ladder for new fish to climb. mouth a tunnel of praise growing wider than the river, gold vein, geyser, face the peeled back lily, sound outshined in the shriek of collective loss, engulfing wartime music on speaker in wartime factory, forever boat endlessly bailed.

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