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Surface “I am the thought on the bath in the room without mirrors” —Nadja Clear ripples over feet, legs knees just bent, small hair and hipbone a circle where the belly subsides or arms press worn porcelain, shoulders shiver sea- borne hair I, a dream or judge, dip in, warm water reach up— A death has webbed the house, covered its mirrors, and this room observes a buoyancy, my breathing away the silence who was. unlit insomnia strange as i am to earth’s new heat, birds warble outside the window of my unlit insomnia. their adrenalin joy courses along daylight a hemisphere away. they mate past midnight on a planet whose atmosphere wanes while its body’s heat waxes. strange as i am to my body’s new heat, i float clumsy in june bird trill. birds warble through my unlit insomnia as i’m seared into clay then sleep a dust-filled song of tomorrow.
