by Elizabeth Hildreth

In and out of God, I relapse into urgency.

All misery, glitter, burning wire,

if I knew something,

I knew a clock could kill me.

Moving under trees is a smile is a slum.

Sharp grey beside, blue cuts above:

everything else

the color things become in disaster.

I've chewed holes in my bed

searching for strange returns.

Maybe I'm driving twilight,

hiding a lamp between limbs,

Saburoh Kuroda on a bicycle.

I count my parts by double.

At the top of the map,

the same girl winks at a rail train.

It's ice falling by EMERGENCY.