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From That Which Comes After

Alexis Pope

The morning a thick
 
Reversal of not moving
 
I make these silhouettes
 
Of former self
 
I’m not in it
 
Cut through paper
 
Rebuild a beginning
 
Made up of tiny stars
 
So tiny I can’t make out
 
Your shape in the bed
 
Framed by my hands
 
Over your side
 
Ways in which we glue
 
The storyline to hold
 
Up to the light
 
On the backs of
 
Our children we strap
 
Our histories in order
 
Chronological reasoning
 
Remap the directions
 
A trip I’d like to take
 
Or revalue my value
 
As held under
 
Gentler valleys
 
You gather me
 
In bulk write my name
 
In your throat
 
I tell you to stop
 
And you will
 
That’s the kind
 
Possess me as
 
Non-object & I won’t
 
Stop flowering in your
 
Springs keep us in place
 
Bounce you back into
 
A style you’ll name me
 
But only if I ask
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