not master of my house, but light sitting

on a secret density, while some part of it

is female, suffers this red temperature

to continue—
            ginger as a formation incident

       i think i want to be known?

i think i am not a moral object
tho such was the thing that gave me my outsides

let me drift across the theatre like its curtains
the day comes unspooled from somewhere on the left

            drifts across the scene like disconsolate ash
would you say i was naked were it not for these scraps
            please only know my illumined parts

this is what the picture asks

dropping like a used pale flower
            i am writing the shape of that same slow message

writing its circles around the drain
            like there is a fantasy there, and i want to go in

it picked up the look of a door

picked the lock on the semblance

            chose me to love it insatiably, so i do
i am everywhere low

            low and clean, form and totally

content with that
                        user, i am content

with the effigy situation

            and the hazard of its useful arms