Its not my place to say
Gravity. Curve of ankle bone under skin. Crease.
It is strange outside, and it never stops. Human traffic.
It is about this. Brutal rot.
Danger is abstract. Stay behind the yellow line.
Recorded voices don’t stop speaking. I don’t think,
Or don’t catch myself thinking, it’s a game.
My memory doesn’t work properly. Things go missing.
The world rears up, it’s outside my window. It’s alarming.
Boating lake. The leaves under water. Rudimentary
Sort of banging.
Tip table over. Traipse home. The mode of conveyance is
Wordy. Who put it there? A load of scaffolding named