FITZCARRALDO, SEPTYCH SHOCK, AND THE CENTRAL ARTERY FROM BOSTON TO GERASENES
Distracted by orange barrels on the highway,
I creased my suit and taunted velocity,
I wanted to fill them with ink, but instead,
I stole copper from the jungle
To wiretap your head.
Scrying with my eyelids, pressed down like the pagans,
Neon cathedrals swam red in my vessels,
When they left me with nothing but sunburn and questions,
I studied the seismic shifts of your neck bones—
Silent, your neck will tighten a fist,
The neck is the knot where they tie off the fish,
It’s all in the flick of a teenage wrist,
Swishing in plastic,
Home from the carnival,
Two fish in the backseat,
Darting like irises.