i. 
Structure ; fish hook ; exorcism.

Am I floating? When I dream it feels like it – 
              I call Zoe on a Tuesday.

              Babe, she says, bad timing. It’s a full-moon. 
              Listen, I reply. I saw the nightclub glow with blue-bottle

              bodies jerking it to an old children’s song:

              heads, shoulders, knees & toes, knees & toes. 

                             & everyone was fevertraced with neon.

                             & everyone was elongated into light.


ii.
I know I imagined my life chronologically.

I know I imagined anything at all apart from this

call & response to helplessness: 
                                                                          queer as genetics.

                                                                          depression as genetics.

                                                                          am I floating? 
              Babe, Zoe says, you need to get out.


iii. 
Threshold ; bargain ; dominion.

Am I dreaming? My jaw is shaggy, my hands sequester claws

                                                            I levitate with nocturnal dread –

              A room strapped golden and dark. Eyes & ears & mouth & nose, mouth & nose. 

              Below, a disco ball spins.


iv.
I don’t think about it often & I feel bad

for not feeling bad. For not believing in anything at all.
              I know I’ve written this poem before –

              It said:

                             how to solve a departure.

              It said:

                             the burnished knight climbing down the princess tower every morning

              It said:

                             I know more about being lonely than anything else. Even when I emerge golden

              from licking Z’s thighs inside the men’s bathroom stall.


v. 
Am I alive? A fish hook twists. Guts ripple.

Howling at the moon. A colour theory chart.

I had a dream it would end this way. Werewolf shift.

A voice, from a very long time ago, telling me to pull.
              The clubline trembles.

              I don’t know, I tell Zoe, I’ve just got that dog in me. 
                                                                          (There was a moment, once upon a time, when I woke up –

                                                                          And honestly, I had to try very hard not to kill myself.)
              & I bend backwards, ankles to ceiling.