Poem of the Week

Self-surveillance delivers the new “me”
in corporeal entrapment. I present
myself to the sky. What I had wanted
was not to forget, like when I was a child
and desired to remember what or where
I had been before I was born. Or
tried to recall all that comes after me
in a future I cannot witness, flooded
footprints reduced to mud. Not me but what
“me” contains, transmits, sentences to
particular instances of movement.
Windows open patio by evening
traffic’s flatness. Spilled purchases, gas grill.
There is a wound the size of paradise.