her right glutes tremble periodicallyit’s alarming, pitifulin her quivering there is no remorse—she is fire wears black eyeliner a gold muscle suita thin scar on her right forearm parts her fura taut clotheslinea tumor removedlike her disposition, benign her claws splayin various directionsboth earsshriveled like cauliflower
from rubbing her skull through grasswith vigorher tissues could not withstand
no one is so moved by the smell of grass
that they would sacrifice their earsto soak in the world’s surfaceshe is more alive in filthmore serene in chaosone adjustment she steps hind-legs behind-hipsthigh bones assume a magnificent slant her belly drawn-out, exposedher psoas providing momentary opening a sudden wolf she leans into the worldwith the wild we conditioned out immovable her howls—an opera without language she is the protest we should have supportedthe tree we cut down she’s every law worth breaking off-leashJuno, Mike and I run by Devon Lumbershe barely applies herself, bored at this elementary pace by the time we reach the hydro lines near Canada Street, I’m ready to modifyshe stays with me Mike runs aheadlast night I shifted in my sheetsunlocking spirits from my right kneemy tibial plateau—bony ledgejust below knee capit smashed pavementwhere King and Queen mergeten years ago, clipped into road pedalsfeet stationed, my hinged kneeabsorbing wallopI obsess over unravelingthe barber stripesthat make a human legfibrous diagonals overlappinghip and knee in various sheathsthin strips of leatherthick patches of gauzefreedom is rotationdirectional potentialcurvaceous infinity
the possibility of a circlerotation requires leaninginto the darkest parts of the hipsummoning strugglerolling in the spherethe femoral headinvestigated in slivers
it’s petting the coat against the grain
I slow my gaitrediscover sensationmy right big toe-moundstriking precisely a Sci-fi experiencea counter rotation shin-in-thigh-outghost-footingresurrecting electricity Junoon paved trailbored we both look for him, we always dohe laps back—in the same momentJuno notices a single tracknarrow portal to the rivertrellised by fern she engages, moves in from the Nashwaak banksher lion chest points to waterher neck muscles spirala brilliant carousel she looks over her shoulderaccuses us we stand on pavementsneakers lacedwrong again to her, everything is ceremonythe gentle landingof her front clawson our painted hardwoodhind-legs dwellinghigh on our beddownstairs, Mike and Ismiling silentlyat one anotherover soundsof the mattress shiftingevidence of her wakingshe performsher signature ear-flap-percussion-of-furseveral high-pitched yawnsflows between up and down dogit’s an eight-minute processionto descend the stairsdemanding instant fun and wonderher sprints are epicmuscles wringingtightly around femursblood pumping marrow-deepyet she is most amazingwhen immovable
we deny her, insist on the straight way homeshe yearns for the river digs inwaits for us to come to our sensesdoesn’t know what’s on sale at Costcohasn’t checked the weather stays fascinated by landslidesmoving waterfrogs is consistently enchantedby mosses, the micro worlddead-fall, dried pine needlesthe smell of decomposition her stare is bony, grounded saying “no”drops the confetti of being alivethat is her moving eyebrowssounds the bell, ends recess back inside you gowhere the edges are sanded that day I saw the stars of her psoas dim psoas: muscular sling connecting trunk and thigh upper and lower head and heart her shaking leg, a maraca of disbelief the hip is a black skymatter compressed each time we tame anything this is not witchcraftgrounded legs pragmatically open the heartallow air to rise psoas: cosmic light of intelligence drags us into complacency or exposes us teaches us to hide or hunt a bodily space-makertwo-paw-printsaway domesticatedwe limp home