One

We keep our

legs under

blankets the

bones gleaming

in jelly like

concrete left in

a wheelbarrow

in the rain

the next day

leaves hang

under the surface

like beetles

under glass

Two

We dress in

fiberglass our

spun sugar

tongues our

foreheads messy

with welts we

film in secret

from knots in

plywood the

tops of milk

cartons the screen

door lets the

cool air seep

in we passenger

pigeon the night

Three

We drip dry

in the waiting

room our hair

shiny with fossils

moats circle the

automatic doors

our lockets leak

static the aisles

full of ashes

the tollbooths

come in waves

Four

We secretary

the morning

the intersections

full of bells

we slide right

through like

swords through

stomachs empty

yawn of space

the snakes

swallow everything