Number 71
March 19, 2013
By Wetdryvac

when I found the body, it didn’t talk back
no utterance, just black ink, “slumber,” and a number
tucked in under the shoulder, bent across the track
like there were becoming here, some forming definition
atrophied behind my gaze, drifting cloud in low
moisture lightening otherwise rigid skin
galvanic current rendering oxygen in three parts
thought, heart, condition – all undertone country
wax lips, breather kit, reconstitution
close kist, concatenation of parts, come away all sunny
carbon arc, diamond – compressed stealth so pliant
human didn’t bleak lack, leak stacks’ division
crystalline abstraction and codification rapt
nation of undone stunted, shriving things
being to be forgiven, unforgiven to be un-being
individual elements redacted, neuter formed of revision
sharpest shadows at the switch, in silence and shrift
each this thing, block prevention to engine’s pass
if sharp glance, and blown clean through
where utterance gaps

we notice nothing – and speak the word, claiming pieces
we notice everything – and empty wreak, making nothings

when I found the body, it –
how do you wish this compiled, short of silence?

Wetdryvac is a non-gendered mechanical contrivance designed specifically for interactions with humans driven by preconception, with the thus-far successful goal of rendering such preconceptions wompsie-sideways. Currently operating out of New England and similarly friendly locales.