"Time to Wake Michael."
"Long view, short breath.
Wrong sign, tethered, unwinding into place.
Distended edge frayed.
I am a clinic of this radius with my mouth and cheek.
Uncertain cell.
My genome survivals of blood buried stop motion,
coupling at the outskirts.
That fasten unfitting for our neighbors, what they do.
They are maybe time for arms and axes, time for spouses.
So given to lip and uplift, given to spine and finger
throat, and hip to clavicle in everything
I rough tumble venerate in you.
This custody makes possible a past.
The solitary plenitude of twin, time, home, and slow descent,
the company we keep."