the primate hospital
(1)
I have raptured the oars.
You may leave
the dull scythe
on its splintered snath
to some other
gospel, resurrection.
(2)
The vein spun from
patience’s distal cavity
exhales,
genuflects.
(3)
When you return
from the war,
kindly
post this: to FAILURE,
whose gleam
the angels recognize.
This
is your birth, a muscle
(4)
the sea
mixes with distance.
