Sabrina Calle

from New Mathematics: A Love Story


                                    We’ve reached the jagged shore. Just as
                                    they said, white birds do bend like tired actresses,
                                    in love. Suckling gold foam over lazy flappers
                                    Fat leopard arch and fight it down. Knock knock
                                    the haunt of time. Knock bottom patch knock in numbers.
                                    infinite mocks infinite right. Suckling time. Here we are not
                                    How you exist in place of want. My god I’ve made a thin thing.
                                    By the lacy window bed. You new, owe me nothing. What is real
                                    now thundering infinite cantos above improvised concierto. Head
                                    to the corner. Back to the door. Forgive us I love you. Distributed in avenues
                                    unaware of consequence. Time: as if the thing gave up
                                    between the ankles. limp to the crease of certainty. Taking new form
                                    under exhausted parachutes. Popping glimmer dumb in shadowless architecture.
                                    Forgive us noises in themselves. We are incidentally moving, otherwise
                                    untouchable. On the hook of the arm I wear a mark of capital and fame.
                                    Talk to me about youth, vibrancy of belief, luxury of love. In stereo bash
                                    orchestra, punch my pajamas out. Push us out and off this frame.


                                    I am imagined. As in fantasy, our steel parts
                                    spark up. No longer inventing the sedentary center.
                                    One must make head of it. Not fight for it, if that’s
                                    what you mean. Across from water, inside glowing
                                    tanks, your ideas put me down. Sanctity in the froth full
                                    flies that fetch quick the dead. Inch on grace of force
                                    in perverse light. pinch-pinch at the sleeve. How grow
                                    sick pitch of bone against bone. What it is in night bed.
                                    What it can do when I am flag and wind fag. To raise a fist,
                                    kill the body.To kill the body, look to me completely.

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