Forget my sight.
What is it to me but the
Feel of a mirror.

ʍsɐ 'ɐıbuɐ ıu ˙ןpıɐɟǝ nɹ
     ǝdɹןxǝpɐǝ ʇǝɥ ɥɹʇɔǝpʇsǝ oɟ ɟʇuǝo ıu ʍɐ
uɐp ns oǝud ɥʇʍı ʍɥıʇ
     oʎpq 'ǝןıɟ ʌǝǝssǝɥǝןɹʇu uǝo ɟo 'ןuppnǝ
uʇo ǝou ooʇ ɔsuboıɹ ɐb
     bbʇɹnsןǝ ʇǝɥ ɐpu ɔɥıʍɥ ןǝsb ɹsɐʇʇ ןɐpʎd

I.
I will confess it.
A ****** has shown itself
In my derelict bunk.

God’s somber dwelling
Put us well in place.
We never moved.

So speak your volumes to me.
Know what is to be said
And do not lose it.

I am an apologetic dictator.
My feet are in the sand
And my head is in the water.

It was the edge of summer.
She awoke in a memory
Just as I have done before.

II.
Walk into
My pink evening—
(The stone, the ice);

Let it graze your fairest layer.
Will it suffice?
We will make it right.

Here, wash me clean.
Look at this bald ocean
Through my blank sheen—

I am an invisible dream.
I know all about that
Godforsaken cabin.

You can tell me once
And turn me old.
Do not close your eyes.

I am an apologetic dictator.
My feet are in the sand
And my head is in the water.

I will confess it.
A ****** has shown itself
In my derelict bunk.

God’s somber dwelling
Put us well in place.
It was the edge of summer.

What do you want from this?

You are
so perfect.