Like an abhorrent larva, I crawl
and I climb—
blind, toward modulation;
a feeling with no corners, not known,
only felt after.
only felt after.
Does anybody even know
that I'm up here
on the roof of this house now?
I don't have to prove it;
I know I'll soon love
everything inside it
everything inside it
(the hard carbon and cold calcium,
the warm blood and soft spit)
only barely—
that way
there'll always be enough left
that way
there'll always be enough left
over for my
next move.
