by Callie Jennings
Until I thought to check, I thought I knew:
worms emerge from dirt to tar
on the run from drowning. Actually no one understands
their reasons. Maybe
worms emerge from dirt to tar
when vibrations ape a predator. Or are
their reasons maybe
traveling fast on slicked slab? Reproducing?
When vibrations ape a predator, or are
mock applause when I drop a glass
traveling fast on slicked slab, reproducing
language is beyond me. My speech breaks with static snow,
mock applause, when I drop a glass
knife voice. Sticking to the surface
language is beyond me. My speech breaks with static snow,
turns trail. Trail: proof and proof of absence. Here’s my opened-by-a-
knife voice sticking to the surface
of the steel. Spill
turns trail. Trail: proof and proof of absence. Here’s my opened-by-a-
mouth mouth. I say
of the steel spill
that I can be allowed to want. I’m saying
mouth: Mouth. I say
all
that I can be allowed to want. I’m saying
I’m
all
mouth,
I’m
just open
mouth,
and I’m
just-open.
I feed
and I’m
equalizing pressure.
I feed
like falling and I fuck like falling,
equalizing pressure,
meant to shed a wreck of men
like falling, and I fuck like falling
was becoming of the nymph stage. I claim I was
meant to shed a wreck of men,
their aims. I knew what needy grubs, what writhing life I’d swallowed clean,
was becoming. Of the nymph stage, I claim I was
on the run from drowning. Actually no one understands
their aims. I knew what needy grubs, what writhing life I’d swallowed clean
until I thought to check. I thought I knew.