census

In the background the pool pump hums.
Put clarifier in the water, & now
it has to circulate for thirty-six hours
to allow the clouding particles to
coalesce.

There is a smoke smell in the air.
Driving around over the last few days
on roads impinged upon
by opportunistic grasses. A day
of rain & they grow. A month later
they are dry, primed for burning.
Easier to set them alight than mow
the strip that runs along the roadside.

       cigarettes   
coffee
          chicken & rice
       burnt grass    
               a tart plum     

The static geometry of the house
separates the evening into panels.
A quintych. Angular, oblique. Trees fill in
some of the gaps, but the most striking
are those where there are gaps
in the trees themselves, one in
particular, bite shaped, as if someone
had tried an apple & then abandoned
it. Acute.

Touch yourself
            & the hand passes through
the flesh
as if it wasn’t there.