The orchestra swells like an afternoon. End-summer. Mid-heat. Cages swinging over the stage, in the back corners of the amphitheatre. From behind the orchard: a bird museum. Closer and you realize the bars of the cages cuddle like toothpicks twice
The Opposite of Disappearing
For a long while, I was certain my liver had divorced my body. Days spent tracking the mass like a snowstorm: a strange knot in my thigh, a lump in my chest, twice there was a bulge on my shoulder