Turn as another, into
but between as never
seen. Never a separate.
A shape that could
have meant, but cannot,
because is not, or
is not now. Each direction
as itself, only and no
between, each species had
to at least be able to exist,
at least. The fossil record
is shallow. The seas are
shallow. We could have
waded. I could not have been
another because there is
no other, at least. Never
a separate. Boats,
I would say, we will get there,
if turning, but could not
possibly remember getting.
We had to sleep. Between
species. Between directions.
The ocean looks the same, shallow.
If I am the sediment, turning
blocks through my hands,
pretending to remember the sounds
of absent animals, but they never,
never were able. Never a separate,
each connected to a distinct,
at least if not worn
this city could be another
before it wasn’t as another, into.
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