for jesse eagle
like generals, no matter how small
the war, we discussed self-vigilance
even as we let go
we poked at our deformities
with a sticky nail and over-
endured like farmers
deciding what might seed
or disappoint the wife.
like tyranny itself, we invaded great lyrical spaces
where our lips could be seen
where she encouraged
transplant after transplant
onto some fixed point that wasn’t the sun
that much kissing,
while outside, normal violence.
like parents with no fabric
for a parachute, we made goodbyes of ourselves
we sold vacuums to
the most endangered, weaker interiors
that polluted the tiny mile in the river
by those farms.
like everything, the world is a chemical
reaction, a blur getting closer than it’s supposed to
making us cavemen
with astronomy for hearts.
like working graveyards, we still
beat back the puzzles inherent in a nervous system
and won our frozen kingdoms
back from those very
(like criminals, we ate from a plate
that doesn’t exist.)