What Is To Be Done

The eventuality of our departure . here in our afterlife.

I am a foreign city, listing somewhere in the middle of the map.

the geography of the body. It’s temperate zones. It’s nationalism. How it supersedes the mind, unlocking bit by bit the tissue that binds it.

Have you seen the Northern Territories?

Have you seen the refugees?

There is a line somewhere. Have you been dragged across it?

kicking and screaming.

Have I seen you there, in the pale horizons behind your eyes

where I list, from time to time, settling to your floor.

Everything here is shrinking. Our bones are just compacted dust

blown out to the edges of the map.