Bowl of Light - The Argotist Online

interstitial
We've made disastrous recovery possible
emerge from wreckage a new man
with a new something, whatever you want it can be yours
we've made revolt,
disaster/submission/cunnilingus possible
and where the railroad ties used to be there grows a flower
bent forward an innocent child waiting to be helped into a new
shirt, folded lamely over an arm that used to hold
something smaller and gentler
the room swims deeply shakes like gongs
a fork on the side of a glass where your
fighting fish swims knows the sound the vision the
horror of that noise
the microbes you just inhaled know it as the sound of life and
possible oppression;
interstitial, the journey;
throw out your lightswitches and will things to happen
will they happen in the dark
or only in the daylight where you imagined a child's happy
body to be, that same small knowledge you had in the floorboard
of your parents' car, curled up like a comma;
like a cat, like any number of penumbral items that you could
list but won't because the only taste you can taste now is
failure and it's not sweet at all;
like the air from the vent at the bottom of that footwell
Honda, thank you for understanding the needs of little people
little and sleeping, dreaming of angels that fend off bloody noses
and ignorance with flaming swords and mighty words that
we all once understood
crashes make sense if you admit this place
exists.