This is how time sounds, body
breaking down, river birds
dinosaurian. Who wouldn’t pass out
outright, given plastic catching
rain, the lost chairs Orphan,
Smokebreak, Minor Mishap?
You think the park’s the world
but the park’s not the world,
it’s not even a real view, the dream
of safety a sculpture garden,
a figment—a boy sleeps
on the riverbank, coat for a pillow.
Pelagic night, slight euphoria
of satellites, we blink lights
at each other. Let’s make a shadow-
play of Lazarus, let’s watch the zombie
frown down at his weird suit
of skin. Like a glass rubbed
by a wine-wet finger, a hum inside
the prayer: lung, lung, pull this cart
slowed up with sleep and touch.
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