[I]f it concerns anything not in our control, be prepared to say that it is nothing to you.
- Epictetus, The Enchiridion as translated by Elizabeth Carter
O, yes I saw how you said
what you said to him. That
flirt to fuck and sweet hip
shook once. I gave a glower.
Tense mute brow a bent
soot streak. In silence,
the mind accretes a heap
of imagined infidelities.
Though we entangle. Become
the roaring fire gullet the
frenzy wrangle the
clutch [[g][r]]asp torrent.
Mantises!
You in the shower and
I should be in with but I'm
reading texts on your phone or
scouring your email my
skull a black iron set by the
stove innocuous until
you touch it.
Some books say:
"To be possess is to hold, occupy
or reside in, without regard to
ownership." "It does not belong
to you." "Repent, therefore, of this
thy wickedness."
The way I stood over
those many women, still,
with silent loom, tangent
phrase, fear beyond
the closed door more than me.
but not for long, long ago, no longer.
Nor now allow all freedom, no
eye-heat adrenaline-
hand snap-tongue withering.
Morph yet not to bud a peach
but die to whitefly. Seed-
germ split to, spilt upon,
spit on, ground down to ground
for growth
unlikely. Every alley a false Buddha. Our
spoons have long handles. We cannot
feed ourselves,
but we could
feed each other.
Learn to speak
O,
muzzled ox, or starve
with food upon your back.