has come and gone. It strong-armed
into sleep, slipped beneath the blood-
brain barrier, insistent, saying
now. Back and back it pushed,
a commonplace come-on,
knife withdrawing from a forked
tongue before touching down
where my thoughts ossified:
I didn't want to die, don't, not now,
ringing, self-styled as a bell,
incision scrawled like the crackle
of a loudspeaker. Is this thing on?
Sound gashed, amplified
into the beginning of a bodily horizon.