from REFERVID VIRGA, from the section did our never sound?
by Laura Woltag
a distance
transgresses me to appear as you. a bundle of sumac reaches into the indecisive
melt. when we have to split to speak and rip to hear. I just want it to lift,
so I say rip me.
sight might seem then; regenerate loss
warming into what’s
falling. the fence then flakes. a poke at a vacant other. until I remember to
look up. until I remember what to look up.
/
a coreless flicker
stings me, rescues you. a splint in a splitting sound,
falsified by the flight it ravages.
so dictating to lose
phenomenon’s all I am.
do you want water?
/
what filters us inhales. air composed
mid-pressure to reassure a circulation. so realms where “we don’t belong” glide
above a severely patterned course. individuating devices powered down.
glean anyone for liberty.
touch in itself touches blood. tied up tone. blood
fields. scratches then deletes. lands me you.
/
in gathering, a
dispersed person hinges
our feeling floods we need
in the tone—
horizon’s giant hinge
placates quiet
beyond powers to invoke it
the form takes its conduits and marshes them
bundle the stems,
suspend
/
one that might be you
slips outside the heat that’s not mine
completely trial
like tagging
yourself’s split
/
can you hear?
-no, can you hear?
Laura
Woltag lives in the East Bay, where she tends to things. Her work has
appeared in Try!, OMG! and is forthcoming in Mrs. Maybe and the
Manifest Reading Series anthology. She facilitates a listening/sound studies class through the Bay Area Public School.
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