I get the shavings of the blade
I get what is skimmed
from the drained pool
and yet the diamonds show up there
when the world has lost them all
O pierced and re-pierced sanctuary
O tomb for a used up tool
the features of the world
are mine at last
I dive into the glitch
with my last willing body,
a copy, a zone of glued-together tongues
sculpting necessary air,
the curve of all symmetries is
giving me a day off,
the singularity of my ice cream
is threaded for the taking
in a painting of the great
birth wound.
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