I am your lifeguard, remote
and mindful, a wind that throws itself from tree to tree
that catches the constellations facing the other way
before they trip
in this prison they call the future
this mixed, pollinated sea they call a prison
I consider all the apple trees that died during my lifetime
the cheap figurines of Cantinflas
Xs on a calendar in the horse diver’s room
upon the bleached ribs of a goatherd a civilization is founded
the clean T-shirts of the murderer’s child they say
under moonlight the towboat comes in
what world is using my voice to call your name
