it         starts       with     a subtle          desperation.

asparagus  fields shooting     up, brown      under fluorescent

lights.   they’d known god   a portrait of white panel      his

blood a    tapering of          black checks;      prisoners to

a column. they’d known him as voice         rocking it, killing

it,          spillage and guts      wrung out into calligraphed

intestines on   a sheet    of bright sun.      this     is  how

you put    on a show.         we’ll turn     this   into wonder

and  tall grin   taller still       every time   I   flick   my

wrists   we   erupt  in a chorus   of moviegoer   cheers  until

deafened    by our  own  singing. palms   molded   to the sheen

of       a metal   knob   this     umbilical cord  attached  to

a   door  that   has        long      forgotten   its      name.