MONDAY

Cyrus Shams

BROOKLYN, DAY 4

Stars. The docent saying something into a walkie-talkie. A white thigh floating in water, leeches fattening around it. Their writhing glee. Cyrus’s eyelids, fluttering. Zee’s face smiling, sticking his tongue out. Orkideh’s wide eyes. Her mouth opening, revealing the black void where a tongue had once been. Trees erupting with snow. Stars. A windmill. The docent’s voice. A leech. Stars. Stars.