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in all eyes a witness.
In every mouth, lies. The truth is
a broken bone that can’t be
set. Tender are the breasts’ proprietary
bruises from the steering
wheel. Nothing is more sexual
than being trapped. Just ask,
& a politician will sign anything,
even a cast. The body’s made
real through habit, the body’s made
real through habit. Two blips
meet on the street, in love or conspiracy—
motives so close from 60
thousand feet, they’re almost
indistinguishable. Dear G-O
-D, dear satellites; dear
Voyager & able dead
light: no lyric exists anymore
except in the Spam folder. Perhaps our secrets are
safest with those we don’t know. In all
eyes a witness. In every lie,
a mouth. After the accident
one man will say to another,
She could be bleeding internally,
don’t move her.
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Both regulators and employers have embraced new technologies for on-the-job monitoring, turning a blind eye to unjust working conditions.
But I do miss the hymns, / the small, hard apples with their dimpled skin. I do miss / things.
The vast hinterlands of the Global South’s cities are generating new solidarities and ideas of what counts as a life worth living.