Jumble Canvas
Entangled and tumbled,
a fleshy Rubik’s cube, ratcheted,
nothing resolving
in it. The almond eyes of
glowering Ezekiel. What prophecy?
We wheel around this place
committed in this sky
to fall. Who poses arms crossed
indifferent? Who lies belly-up
back-landed?
Our extremities, shrivel at the edge
of touch—recurring interstitial ticks
black flecks that could be canvas filler,
bullets, distant birds, or tears.
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