BEACH TRAVESTY

Myokmia: the corner of my eye has begun twitching.

Then I heard this:

I swallowed a pit.
The groats of the snow
turned over my face,
shuffled themselves in their ordinances
into the joints of paper birches.

Then heard: Feels slimy before we shimmy in
coconut oil before bed.
So odd they all fall asleep like that.
While the fly dips its hands
and dips its back into my tea.

Now it’s swimming away from the fat of the eye,
expecting them to give more
than they do end up giving.

As if, in the operating room,
there was not a speck of dust in Franz’s
calculated apartment.

I feel entitled to what I’ve cleaned.

I thought it was interesting your stretching-out face video

in the cup of your palm.
Your belief in food freedom, is it plastic-free?
I tried joint searches, one lake,
frosted bicycles, and yellowish slush,
furious and muddy.
She was bending.
She was a tugboat ganglion—

As far as I’m concerned, what Father’s Day was this?