I don’t want to talk about the body     the body talks that body talk
I say I don’t want you               it doesn’t say it wants to begin again
so I hold up my hand   mirror my phantom finder

tell me I’m not a body builder   ?
tell me I’m not a magic man   ?
tell me I’m conceal                   I’m telling you

the body refuses my help          I regard my shape          shifter, I hardly know
how to divest                I can’t rest        taut seam of sinew and self
how I would unseal

                                                  do you want to look at this photo?
It’s a rocket about to break it’s a hot hot rocket it’s a hunk
of metal leaving it’s going it’s going it’s out of here!

I left myself a message on my mirror       it was a recipe for a man

I roll out pie dough instead       start small           use an empty wine
bottle for the rolling pin            of course it’ll never turn out
my arms tire     pricked by sweat and use

I’m telling you this isn’t vicious            I want to occur
the way memory occurs             having happened