AFTER SB 2109
X threads us into rope, a weave of human
arms X-ed down a canyon wall. Voice
writes nights like these and calls
for complete night, without
scraps of light or dissonance or stuttered
cries. Crumble of tree limbs: X, there
we are again. This is how far we climb
for life. We’d rub out before reaching
the ground, where water cuts—
Once a man had only water to pray with.
Once life is the blur of a windmill,
each crisscross sets another arm
to bark. Cessation of the line; break
it up there. Article X: delineate marginal
arcs, say everything within windmill shot—
Whereas injury to water was writ
and concluded: how far inside earth
will they reach? Whereas for groundwater,
they steady their wrists for a slow up-stitch
across their own eyelids.