Like untying a knot—
            you loosen the threads,
then pull

Circumstances tune me
Like a native’s drum
I reappear—
            a lamb, a garbage woman
Packing your tossed treasure
Nursing your foam, boxes
of the decade’s dust


Never to write about yourself
(one’s self) (myself)


You aim


I cock my head at your instrument
However detailed your render
you won’t find me
I am the document you forged