Again, we awake to chatter
of teeth hitting a concrete
heartbeat. Heard within
my ear. A tractor begets its face
of garden trowels to dig
the rusted out. Wet birdleaf
plumes brandy cedar and shavings
scent my hair. All bodies
torn from water.
Rumbles thunder
our words pushed back.
Punched sheetrock chalks
the river in chunks.
Islands splatter, but then what?
No longer a path,
pine needles brown
ants I count
to know a future. Even
means life, odd, the other.
A nod rips
yes and hammers
agate no no longer.
Bridge enamel now teeth
fillings all knocked out.
A pulse mouths sounds
and what heats loosens
to make us. Sand
falls back to sand.
Again, what returns
in metal shudders
to finish our bodies
is smaller, more
exact.