By eae Benioff

priorly a non-compartment

for storage things like rage

rent the non-soul

zoned between the bladder

& gomorrah, & without coordinates

slipped between the fingers like phylacteries

to hypothesize a memory:

in those days, i yearned by rubbing two wishes

on a circle, passion entered my heart through

a vestigial organ, whose somber grating crackled like a radio

into the greater dark, i was thoughtful & happy, preconditions

for the greatest sadness i would know, it spread before me

like a field whose parameters were endless, it was a blessing

without any other likeness, it heaved against my position & i, likewise,

observed my heft.