Notice a tree. Write about it.
Bark infected like homeless mother’s limbs with skin weathered from winter and bed bugs.
Go outside. Write about it.
I stare at an open field and search for the bodies held captive by tall wheat or poison ivy.
Visit amusement park for children called zoo. Write about it.
I see an elephant and describe its skin as heated crust. I count each fracture disrupting the smooth. I call it monster call it mammal of wild grey call it me in the evening when enough bodies have rubbed against me to feel bloated and heavy, a swell of weight.
Climb up staircase of memories in body. Question what needs to be questioned.
Why do humans violent away their childhoods?
Treat body like leftover supper and microwave toward normal
I want to remember the days when nothing occurred.