Dancing is Fucking Easy

under water.

Sort of like imagining

your gait

after an accident

fills your pants

with shit.

To break apart

from the floor

is to move in

anyway. How my

shaved face is

all you. Still

mine. But not

exactly a tree

farm's symmetry.

Whatever saw

first light

destroyed first

were bigger than

everything then

—giants, mostly—

men. A speaking myth

divides the river

reed more, Pan,

for not one lyre

but two, exposed

that finger

banger envy

of children

—is this death,

they'll whisper.

No, he'll say—it's love.