It's not the energy reeling

Nor the lines in your face

Nor the cloud on the ceiling

Nor the clouds in the space

It's not the phone on the table

Nor the bed in the earth

Nor the bed in the stable

Nor your stable words

It's not the formless being

Nor the cry in the air

Nor the boy I'm seeing

Nor her long black hair

It's not the room

The beginning

Not the crowd

Not winning

Not the planet

Not spinning

Not a ruse

Not heat

Not the fire lapping up the creek

Not food

Not to eat

Not the meat of your thigh

Nor the spine tattoo

Nor your shimmery eye

Nor the wet of the dew

It's not the warm illusion

Lapping up the creek

Not what you really wanted

Nor the mess in your purse

Nor the bed that is haunted

With the blanket of thirst

Not the hunger revealing

Nor the ricochet in the cave

Nor the hand that is healing

Nor the nameless grave

Not the crowd

Not winning

Not the planet

Not spinning

Not heat