Assimilations

In a public display of affection

I serenade a milk carton, I am a

hollow honeyeater who can collapse

internally. Pink fungi grows in

my neighbor’s gable canopy—

this is met with frustration when

this expects a kind greeting. In a

public appraisal of day I move one

square inch at a time in any

direction, I am a king who rules

over my mother’s retired &

mystical ashtrays. Glitter in carpets

look like meth, brightening &

blinding components—blind

oneself from much to see or miss,

love or observe. Brighten the

dingy trap house my father couch

surfs to avoid god, knows what.

In a private display of curiosity—

I ask God about what he’s

up to, & if God would

help, or if God is like the log lady

& can only hold so much. In

a private display I slather myself

in solid sunset, I am not

manufactured, I’m not two

or more bodies nor can I

travel far distances fast—I am

not reinventing the wheel,

my neighbors will call the police

on me for that noise. I ask

God for a Christianity to keep me

away from meth without

the colonization of my mouth to

collapse it into the shape of

a gable roof, stapled on for my

neighbors delight in my smell.