i collect computer generated videos of scenes from my dreams
populating at seeming random in the swishing current of my phone

worshiping recreations of tsunamis and broken stairs as prophecies

behind my screen the children snark and pet one another
red apples at the center of each chest, dewy and rattling

find myself believing the rotten ones are rotten for good, worm emptied

i know it’s wrong

/

in the hot summer shower
i élevé onto the balls of my feet

baste myself to make my body
flee

naked in the mirror
i become a swan

wake up crushed and immediately
reinflate

it just takes a second