Repetition smudges in.
The lake sets
beneath a bird-
turned sky. I balance
water, rock, flat-
topped dirt,
the bone I’ve become.
Back home, wind throws
a tree on the van
out front, air goes
glassy and sharp.
I point to a building,
hit brick. Consistent
animal, it’s elemental,
how we feel. Do you
know you’re a photo
graph, mapped to a flash?
—Lily Brown, We’re in the Ocean, Or I’m Alone (via grammatolatry)