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From then,
to you, from
legs below tables
though your mouth is the snow
tumbling off teeth as if off shoulders
though tin boxes rattle inside stone and
unfold beacons like red plastic
a deception whose hand you see
whose hand you look at and see
whose hand you hold in your mouth
and around which your ears coil, grow heavy
and fall asleep

Rapidly like folded scenes in pockets
like a gesture splayed moist and
gagged in the hair of a walking man
touches with hand spines, vertically
assembled and vanishing vertically
shrinking eyes that coalesce in
sea water and storms. A swelling velocity

Walking, nestled in porous wool so the
ice gets in and so legs fall like water abruptly
sandy soles dismembered and
forgotten on the top stair
recalled by the wind who pants and
packs grit and salt against the windows
It is a full city block of sobbing window joints
and the bones of your house, loud from all your blinking
eyes in turn, first here then

Scales of sober weight, dressed in gnostic black
you with your hands like religion
with your mouth like dragging
like heavy stones

Staring variously and
tiny sounds as insects or plants
the colour of distant grey and
touches width
or the burgeoning depth of dimension
saccharine vapours to broach and stifle
the types that crease entire bodies

And when, in two, they collided
blackened eyes, warm membranes or
vessels packed against distance
in two, our two hands inside splayed
and vanishing
your ears who are dreaming create
anew a backward crawling scene
that backward folds and encloses its own
falling backward so serene
that thing if inside were so
and jointly nestled loud with
the sweating snow