• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 11

Hand me

this final heavenly phase of finger-mounds.
Glacial skin, stretched over inner oceans of blood
bear the weight of my walk,

not a trespass,
to reach the other side of this fleshy surface

where, a child, I wonder
what the apple-red planet will do
as I near its southern most pole-

black sky between us
yet to yield a bridge.