You end up ancestral in the shower
with a beating that is your heart
but also pressure to catch the rhythm
of someone else’s story the idling engine
of the ventriloquist come back with his
beat up case your voice transposed
to distant chords ^ you’re the kiss
& the impulse to throttle an atonal
zarzuela con brio in pelt time ^
there are so many directions this could take
the moment is invertebrate no narrative
you’re naked with feelings you don’t
understand they bend around you like water
the green carpet of your childhood room
Velcro snag of transit Wi-Fi jamming
communication ^ to think of it is to hold
your breath until you fracture inside
the rear window of your Honda
shattered by Jesus Mohammad prophet
drowsy on meds ^ maybe even God
takes SSRIs knocks out early
which would explain how we got to this
forshaken place lorries rolling by
with prefab houses on their backs
& you’re fifteen again waiting
near the fountain at the Point
Neil Young singing into headphones
don’t let it bring you down mind turning
a stripped screw: you did not come grieved I
then the shift tectonic Charles
Gayle’s everything had to stop right there
^ the thing about appearances is they’re
like phonemes split off from their roots
so you only see what folds into you
until there’s nothing but folds
you no longer feel the back of your head
Invertebrate
Nuar Alsadir
Nuar Alsadir is the author of a book of nonfiction, Animal Joy: A Book of Laughter and Resuscitation, and two poetry collections, including Fourth Person Singular, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award and the Forward Prize.
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