XVII. The Twenty Three Pill Day

Years… balancing
            probabilities

quantify the expectation

love your body while it eats you
leave a bad husband

take your children out
in the night
in bare feet and cold

three for autonomy
two for loathing
one for the unsafe world

the universe
            not built by brute force
                        but designed by laws

to cover the stains
bleach the apparition

return to paper walls
hang the things you made
among the wretched
with plastic thumbtacks

move your forms in closing borders

one for foreclosure
four for fleeing from a murder
two for overgrown empathy

The details left
to the working of chance

do not drastically change your plumage
keep the faceless scars
from the moon house you built
it will stoke your class hatred

four
for
noncustodial
weekends

let the dark open up and out
into work you do alone

illuminations

of hell-mouths
Rain squalls through moonlight
Cold wet
is so damned wet

two
for food insecurity

it will get better
when small hands can reach
for the right cabinet in the dark

I’d be a rich [wo]man
had I yielded
on a few points of principle

three
for the face of the house
you loved when you lived without air

how the frozen blood vibrates its lack of war in blueshift wavelengths and you look and see that even if there is no bread you will not starve and the children will have words as you have had them behind a mask of moving eyes

one for sleep

and a long dream to unroll
and somehow time

remove the second sight from secondhand

the markers of your composite moments
how you hate when you are young

the quiet way of living in sawdust corners
and of becomes like air you tell slowly
to the bounded ear of your daughter

drive her to the trailer park
where you lived before you lived
see the filthy girls in shorts and cold
when she weeps tell her it is better this way

“We’ll be free
                         with less 
                                            and clean.”

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