glass over oil, I see

my face

in your red fur

​

our color stains

yellow walls,

stone moves like bodies

​

behind us. I train

my eyes to foresee

what we cannot use:

​

the price of milk

in Florida, names

of people who haven’t

​

been invented yet.

our skin known

for missing girls,

​

for mobile homes.

you don’t need to dig

for bones at your feet.

​

I learn to farm

corn in the field like

blood, like fur

​

teeth bared, calling

out a reason

to be afraid.

​

​

​