I know it's full of split peas, lentils, stars but
But the pressures under which it cooks
How it falls apart if water gets in, or starves
That we might stitch its physics
Together like felt, a false precarity.
The words are just there to confuse
The guards, like mock duck on the winds
Except for [redacted]. No money is lost if they collect
The guards inside us, and that's love
*
And that's elegy. I know I am not felt
This is the form where my friend was buried
Effects of the aid that we take personally
A gentle crippling of the social body
I know that I can't touch her with the hand
That has touched Country, I mean without
Several competing forms of visa
Family, now warm and capable of
Decay in paradise as we descend
Special thanks to Ben Lerner and Granta