I vanish into the veneer like a champ to avoid
the She that holds sway over my inhabitants.
These are simple folk who speak in tongues of
those who raise pitchforks, those who storm
holds and keeps; they yell at her, reject her first
I’m vibrating between realities of close and farther
than synecdoche. This is all I need to defeat her.
And then shoes are dropping everywhere
while I’m hallucinating farming,
stumbling around cow pastures, hiding
among knees and bones and trees-
The water is violent, I’m cold on the inside,
I see stuff that happens when no one is watching.
She moves through phases of idolatry and ultimately
settles with fusion. I have a hard time adjusting. I’m slow,
like an edifice.