… are no words for a country
not for old men or lovers or friends, never mind
roadside assistance. Somewhere in Miami, a burning
building falls, and bodies turn to dust.
You swear you can breathe them. Hear them
dying over and over. And glacier walls
trap animal bodies. You can see them
smacking the ice. Or maybe you can’t, and it’s just
your mind playing tricks. The dying diamond
of melting glass. Everything, it seems, is melting
a little. Just as when, barely a teenager, you put
a sugar cube on your tongue: the sun smeared
its yolk across the window. You prayed to be saved
from what you didn’t know. The fa…