Tearing a piece from a loaf of bread,

you told me I am an ordinal direction

I am a current

bloodline

river.

Gesturing to yourself, you indicate that you are

a forest fire, an asterisk of motion, everything

burning down and growing all at once.

And both the fire (crawling out, trailing along 64)

and the rivers (a letting of water bodies)

resemble a single raw nerve.

I feel more like a boat rocking

on the east,

than the north itself.

When we’ve finished the bread,

ask me / tell me, how to carry my legs and

fingers and hair, how to be a vessel

and still move forward.