I stop taking notes on the minutiae 
of my feelings      A few words stay near me 
but no one likes them much
Magic      syntax      the mass murder
of my ancestors      I’m used to holding close
unpopular ideas      The jury milks a law

I do not believe in      How bad man (you)
was the verdict they gave      If only right now
you’d roll up to my door      Our big soft talk 
would shoot arrows out the window      pull 
the stones right out of my chest      
The deliberation of your paws

I try to conjure when I wake 
startled by my body      that I haven’t also
disappeared      The stranger by the fish case 
says people like me      need     
to be careful      I forget I have a face 
they describe like a carpet      I’m still waiting

to go back to where the trees work right
Xylem phloem      the patient up and down
We rolled around the loam      
on generations of dead leaves       Love 
didn’t pool in the bathwater      No      Love
you didn’t bleed right down the drain