there is an idea
that mum and me
might write a paper together
a paper about water
and gender, and water
and people. The way
we use it, abuse it.
water societies, floating
in rivers. i wonder if water
is feminine. or if we could
argue that, perhaps.
it could be creative
we could introduce song.
we could claim that water
moves around solid objects.
to not bend or distrupt
we commit ourselves
to the project of smelling
similar. to straighten
one out. to disicpline
to the task ahead
of living lonely
without a smell.
pour one into the other
and ebb and flow
in their intensity -
one cannot choose.
melt into me
as I melt into them -
ghostly transformations
that speak volumes.
a singular point on the edge
of this void. so it’s like
a dark room. a multiplicity
of singularities. in other
words, being.
starched to a succrose.
Polycarbonated. Maybe
the chemistry metaphors
should be left…
yellow. splinters. split.
sideways. salty. spire.
tickets clang nonsense
streams of conscience.
you are a yellow bee
split. spit. stung. and dancing.
if this was a song
there would thread. meaning.
being told. with bite.
in the breath.
losing old, cold. rain
falls. failing. fingers.
