Handle With Care

the benefit of making out in the dark has always been

you can’t see the boy turning into a school of fish. the shimmer:

an oscillating knee, negligible displacement but for the knee

next to it, and the knee next to that one, and that one –

suddenly you’re in a part of the city you don’t recognize, wondering

when and how you learned to pull your punches. your hands

putting themselves all over the boy’s shoulders. the river. the boy

in the river. the boy twisting like a river, the old man twisting

into a seal, a sea lion, a school of fish, an upside-down question

mark. don’t reduce this: he isn’t trying to avoid giving you a straight

answer; this is the straight answer. a straight arrow, tearing through

apple after orange. today you walked into an empty room

and everything changed. you tried to tell the truth and your mouth

filled with feathers, spoons, the ocean – all your particles

in rebellion, traitorous and wielding knives, ready to fight any god

by believing in them. i left you in the weight room and found what was

not you. your knuckles. your crash. an accident. i have looked at you

and i have put my hands on you, but never both at the same time.

by the time the coffin’s ready, the body’s gone.