“The working definition for completion here is excavation. Opening, rather than static closure, aeration. I dig the grave of sentiments yet unearthed in these sparse words and present them as fresh grief. Death makes for a fertile ground, microorganisms transmuting stale language. Where do my words start, and Davis’ end? The boundaries are porous, amorphous. To complete, extend the process of decay, I render my resonances with her words into a perceived subtext, condensation. I let them come to the surface for air, coverless.”



                                                                                          ~ ~ ~









Even cities come and
                                a settling place, still, distill
go. In the end, my sister
rolls herself up like a
                                cigarette, half-burnt
sleeping mat, takes
                                displaces, acetone cleans
herself elsewhere. This
                                plastic wool swathing
is not a business plan,
                                financial, an exchange of incoherent extensions
it is only a woman
                                half-formed, a loud cry