This is a meditation on conclusions
Drawn about the dream that I am dying
On the outside of the inside of the dream
A head in a teleprompter says
We are all dying
And I don’t hate him for it
This is a meditation with your knees
Above the waterline
Body like a flag
Staked in ambiguous territory
Elect which patterns
You must purge
Press your fingertips to
The back of the throat
When the cloth comes
Catch it
Like a magician you can pull out
Fistfuls of knots
Wrestle and unfasten them
Spread the blanket over the water’s surface
Safety-tanked in your motives
That’s when you pull the plug
To the great suck
Touch yourself
To the great suck and the air whittling
Warmth from your skin
Touch yourself
Like the bulb above the tub
The future is a bright place
We reach for
Sometimes wrap our arms around
If I dream again
It will be to this sound