okaaay!                       are you ready?

so                    many things happen at once

is there a pen   that might equivalence

this                  far, a blue sun

light millioned-          years away

it scrawls                     into the delicate membrane

of what is in    and out, the permeable self

there                is no filter in this domain

fear                  the crucible

you choose      trembling, the nervine or else

witch-note:      a sign of hex or curse (they’re different), an object

shattered                     seen with naked sober cornea

lifted-up                      to fly across a room dashed

pieces              yes. each time by will

you gather       wrap in papers and begirded-twine, by

string               ribbons or mirrors

to hoard                       a protecting defiant

fracture is        a way to arrow the malignant

also                  foul insects or dead creatures

to sudden         these must appear unexpectedly &

deformed         you will see a slug loathsome because

twirled             of magical malice       & unearthly    with carapace

gigantic to be  sized as a human fist  

shift                 across your feet          

two metres      from your right           to rearraign 

one                  to the left         without moving

there’s a sanity           in knowing, to know this

is meant                       to ‘timidate;

i’m speakin’    to you & you’re speakin’ to me

writer, reader  concubines of the telling

they’re not       different things

i’m not            creating

more collapsing          to not flurry, yet

in the sirens     of the urgent

instead             report on this

turn                  to sense

to first             breakdown, you’re 19

but they               don’t record such things like that

now, modernly   you’re told this kindly, by a medical

when in                recent years you’re sundered again, almost

unsurvivably   three more times        

memory’s        forensic

how you              self-told this in journals and scrambled

instinct-              intent              

you were         sharded, first time to you it appeared

you were              many million pieces   bouncing

around all        rooms, no home          nothin’ but groundless

a laboratory’s- experiment to ash                   

just

like that

throat pills       but so pure your inexplicable

to collect             all those cracks, claw-bite-gnash them back

into                  a person-thing, almost cohesive

you      mean, coherent

a priest            brought by your father will tell

you                  this, diagnosis by the paedophilic

church’s               altar,

you just                don’t    know who you are

how y’r                 doin’ honey     i’m gooood

just                  writin’

tryin’               to record an archive

diasporic               of us assaulted

by                    violences underage; somethin’ about that, they’re

still                  tryin’ to work it out in the ratlines of power

somewhere      else, the U.S.

we were talkin’       about it            just last night

on ours phone s, and midnight;

about being     uninured          some fucked-up         blood-chemical gift

to loft arterially      alive

because                    somewhere else          

ever                 a child

is being                       harmed            who if not not dead

or maimed       to comatose

will still                       insist    on        appalled         

because uncorrupted

by                    disinnocence