
to the crosshairs of your gloves,
I can swallow the most primitive bacteria, recombinant
contaminants, trawl any alibi thus my nickname zip-top, tinsel.
I’m nude in the sense of stripped “t”, optioned out,
stove in.
I can open to the point of inversion, to the point of
perversion, without cover or camouflage, without dots
on “i”s, skin on bones.
Disruption is my pigmentation. I withhold
fluids, byproducts, judgments. Nest
of “yes” in trunk of “no.”
I am windsock
off the armature, marrow leaked
from double yellow lines, thus my
nickname target, collateral.
I am sackcloth in the stance
of shiver. I am slug, trot, shifter. I am without
objections, caveats, conceits.
I can self-immolate in a single
breath, pen no rejoinder, thus my nickname
myriad, gunnysack, misericorde.
I am solution to exhaustive experiment,
prop and scale− master and slave, so soluble
the microphage world tears up in me,
thus my nickname no-thing, other-than
−spindle cell
surrogate…