Graham Foust, “Number One Hit Song”
The above is leaf-math,
block of cottonwood.
I am for volume.
I am for tubes in and out of the sick.
If heaven were only
you could hurt you,
I would touch its dead and broadcast
their entire range of breakage.
I would breathe to within
of my sleep.
I would make a little nimbus there,
a clear heart for moths to toss against.
Late and unancient, inexact
as hands, I would move
as if by choice into my life.
—Necessary Stranger; Flood Editions, 2007
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