III. “LOOK AT THE BIRDS OF THE AIR; THEY NEITHER SOW NOR REAP NOR GATHER INTO BARNS”––UNCONCERNED ABOUT TOMORROW. “CONSIDER THE GRASS OF THE FIELD –– WHICH TODAY IS.”

LOOK NOW:

A bus.

In the seat near her, of wired silver hair, of wilting lilies- a face that is a spattering of moles, the teeth an inch from necessity: Brianna. What creature is this? What torment? The nature of yourself is a nature of no other- you are uniquely ugly and I have prayed for and forgotten you.

This is only the presentation of your thighs
with hopscotch etchings and clipped denim…  

You crawl from the ramshackled crevice of timber and shingle,
from the carpet,
  To meet me on vinyl-
and teach me a pity of the circus.