I walk along the interstate like Eurydice by the river
streaming and stinging lights, come-home and
go-away lights, lights like firefly streaks looped on repeat
then the dream dips and I am underneath
where the blue becomes black and concrete wears thin

the factory is vast and empty, hollow like a ribcage
without organs, and my dress is too thin
where is my armor? where is my sword, my arrows
or bow? there are hands everywhere, disembodied
and moving through the darkness, touching my shoulders
and my lips and my pale closed eyelids like moths
they lead me so politely and I am lying down on the machine
now, I am giving myself to it

somewhere I cannot see, a fire is burning
I can smell its heat on the air and the way it is hungry
like a pig rooting through wet earth
or a man