After vocabulary in Nuts & Reverie by Jonathan Regier
Theory lines wake her, curved slow axe. She turns.
To look back at the visibility, running stock retired. Retry.
To split the egg without losing yolk, consider the signs
under anaesthetic. Tides bound or bounded by salt licks.
Her refraction still power. Lines make her remember.
Overlearning, oak, cure. The sleep less an axis than spit.
Basic patterns of respiration between rapid eye movements.
No need to say what’s beyond these comforts.
Speed down the wire, speak and roll over.
Precipice. She is her own.
And from the outer calls herself, beckons
as if the curtained night were behind her now.
Reckoning. Plates clatter in the quake. Hold on.
Snowstill incubation of winter falling towards her.
She would make it stop, wherever she is.
Amnesiac dreamcatcher, letting every image pour
through its net. Those which held her down, weave
along unsuspected flights, chill, naked to the wake.
And then, to call up under fingertip, a print, curl
foetal alongside artefacts, raised dust pinned back under.
Roasting, or robed, the sheets twist and strangle.
A light breeze, or hair, wafts closer.
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