You were only here because
at some point someone made space for you
I too want a predictable home
so I can do whatever I want
but for you and for me this
translates differently
what people don’t realize is
form is personal
for women form it’s a kind of ending you know
we birth ourselves over and over
after each little death
an army of me
maybe we’re only reinventing
capital
like music and flowers
to know work by another name
to know the names of love
to love the un-
doing
I mean we can’t even agree
if resources are fixed or infinite
let me tell you
a resource is just a pocket
a rupture in the pattern
when the mothers part the waters
and everyone runs through