birth of aphrodite

foam, advance
washed up man
prick not a pocket full
when it looks like that
cold, slug wet
sloughed off
turning my eyes, it’s
an aborted
ruddy dripped
uterine sapling



alone the planet appears, talking about its time
owed to succumbing to the pressure
of something around it which
it cannot point to, rightly, which it knows
only by what has been felt
in this sense, it is only at all
“…mourning has to do with yielding to an unwanted transformation…”
-Judith Butler