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A little bird
who is dangerous
sits atop the box
and tells
the box’s secret fears
the box’s strange sexual history
The box has a perpetual egg
rolling corner to corner
asking about
her plans, the egg says: is this it?
The box can’t break the egg
The glass of water is
a small box in the box
It sits on a dusty ledge
and makes a lens
The cherries in the box
browner each year ask
the box: is there anything you
need? If you are cold
we can roll our flesh against
your side
If you’ve forgotten
The sky tastes like wine
The field is a yellow longing
--
The bird does not eat the cherries
The bird does not drink the water
The bird did not lay the egg
The box made them all by a complicated magic
In the bathroom stall I undress for the women
In the bathroom stall I undress for the women
outside I undress for hours
This is the inside of my shirt
Tonight my body is covered in stars
In the big room a woman walks thinly half the
length of the stage Stopping: Fabric grows
from her like a cloud machine operated
from her hips
I build a costume of film footage from different
cities The snow in Montreal jumps
like ghost snakes around my neck Rome
makes small wrist-shadows Tokyo: postcard-
sized I stretch across my belly
My clothes refuse to cover me Skin snakes through
things My body is a city and
clothes the snow railing against my angles
splitting and fraying and growing old like
wool people used to work in