I draw what I feel
to be true: a cluster of dots
stretching across my back
the distance between land
and water at night
a longing shadowed
by the sun’s slow climb
in time stillness becomes
both theory and myth
I trade the space
of my stomach the swirl
of ice in the bed sheets
the flower blooming back
a cluster splitting into space
I reverse the possibility
of remembering
draw the unwanted hands
flip the mattress
the way I like