looking and it
won’t come off. It
has sun in it
the dirt rolling into me
until I’m aerated and mud.
blastules cornering me, blastopores
The tiny limbs of veins
didn’t grow out of me into the earth
when I did not look at myself at all.
You see it’s like we’ll be together forever
why should we talk. It’s like parents.
looking at bright mountains
a sky. They are sort of flaming
it is your eyes.