Everyone Is Partial
I remember what that is.
Being partial is a consequence of geography. Or,
Geography is a consequence of it.
I do remember the flat blue planes and the cruelty of
the sheer vastness of it--that what one was attached to
might at any moment pitch one loose.
Geography meant specificity.
I think, maybe poetry could be my lover.
Not having a husband, or a wife, and so needing to be
the split subject.
What was it like, you ask?
It was like swallowing a wire.
It was like having that awareness of your insides by
feeling the presence of the slenderest of hair-like
n e x t
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