I walk a dog-colored thought to the All Dog Chapel
of Lost Dog Souls
where I purchase a translucent retriever.
Though I gather he comes without a name
I know to call him Bounder.
I feel this strange fire. A statue leaps through itself
on the courthouse promontory. A slow-moving humaffalo
crosses the street. My hands are indulged by palsy.
There’s a bawl I make
when I can think of nothing but warm laundry.
I think this is a sort of salvation.
I walk through a more forgotten afternoon
proceeded by similar, later afternoons.
A fold of infants is shepherded by me; are guarded by my mouth.
I arrange my bones in a pleasing figure
so that I might fall to sleep inside them.