Sometimes I ask to be bound
But we
never do it like that.
Why don’t we
ever do it
like that
After all
I ask for it
From my father anything
I ask for
I get
I say I am worth it
& we both know it’s true.
We know
there is a pattern
The chimney In the
rat’s
nest
The leak always starts
above
I ask for me
I want
a mask the width of a rope The
sky
moony memories
and the cut
of them
By this writing
you’d think
I wasn’t born anywhere—
that I didn’t however briefly
uncarry a child
Here
comes the scything
We know there is a pattern
Now the staining
Why can’t we do it like that
With the taste
of mushrooms in the air
