flinging my body
into the form of question marks
out in the unnamed forest
witnessed by creaking trees
squeaking snow underfoot
not knowing how far
a soma can stretch
the sole solution
is to expand
how can one glade,
one moment,
one winter,
one gesture
contain unpinnable electrons
orbiting madly
pursuing energetic resolution
without end?
how can you ask
my name,
my address,
my work,
my relational status,
as if that
could put me
on your map?
The scattered sanctum
is my dwelling,
my swelling,
my doing and undoing,
my little spiraled galaxy,
my vast space between atoms,
my blood common
as sacred dirt
and water.
into the form of question marks
out in the unnamed forest
witnessed by creaking trees
squeaking snow underfoot
not knowing how far
a soma can stretch
the sole solution
is to expand
how can one glade,
one moment,
one winter,
one gesture
contain unpinnable electrons
orbiting madly
pursuing energetic resolution
without end?
how can you ask
my name,
my address,
my work,
my relational status,
as if that
could put me
on your map?
The scattered sanctum
is my dwelling,
my swelling,
my doing and undoing,
my little spiraled galaxy,
my vast space between atoms,
my blood common
as sacred dirt
and water.
Jen Hartley
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