for sale by owner.  rooms the rooms where nothing happened.  outside had been for so long a black boy shot.  a certain, rote by now, blood draw.  during which was brought the inability to dream.  having come so far, drop of rain.  heart in a mirror.  father talking but not until my bare heels touch the pool’s bottom.  the first pass of a delivery drone over a likeness of mother.  to the church of the secret church.  nightly upkeep of cross.  torture **** as paper cut.  in conversation, my medical supplier.  no one enters a burning house to retrieve the word of god and she’s not poor enough to have a baby.  to self-healing.  the gaming profile a ghost logs into.  a syringe plucked from a lucky raccoon.