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Box 2 (curse)


outright               to reach and touch (a figure conspiring) the ceiling               of someone’s end

the skin’s sensation        of being watched            this carving I make of you             this puppet

a figure I bury          (if watched, then by a chaos          the details conspiring)          to erase you

details wheeling         the mahogany fall of cloth a song          in no hurry         a body’s one side

sadder/happier              carved, hammered bits              a solitude              dust thus organized