I step inside myself
to address
the thinning
army.

age is the only distance my body can record.

my thoughts go unsettled.
they are held
either
in an ant, or in the sewing needle
the ant
climbs.

I scratch nothing’s mark.
I kiss what’s left
of my father.

god’s nose breaks on the ankle of a peasant.
remains mother
a meditation
on the heaviness
of stars.