Is it imperative to run through along
when the countdown starts at ten, until I take
the plunge, bring myself forward,
ask which intent yields the least red flags
I come undone to commit a list of selves
I desire being for the year approaching
and learn: this self, which understands
- before the process of oscillation finally
presents itself to matter most, I
have to measure the threshold with my hands
See which entry is too difficult
When you’ve been alone for years
on end with only your body to spare,
the limits in the registry are absolute
The lapses are notably proverbial
Yet only the order varies in terms of significance:
I have to arrange the sheets in the morning
Rub the dust off the window sill once handful
At ease when astringency of solitude is particular
Travail as if I’ve slept hours likewise befitting
Distinguish which fear exists recurring
when I sense an impending collision
But before everything else:
Rip the heavy out of this ribcage
It is not enough to be lighter
but it is the consummate incipience
Only then will everything else follow
