taking off my rings 

i think of casting a circle
& calling the watchers. in the forest
there are archways the deers lay
to tell us how
to walk towards a silver television.
in my room i cut portals 
through celophane. 
a bowl of oatmeal. a windowsill
laden with footprints.
each hopstoch a new rabbit
witched & standing in the yard.
i always wanted to lay an egg
& keep it a secret. blue shelled moon.
mother planet. how everything
is an orbit. you around a cigarette.
me around a portrait of a family.
signaling the night to unfurl
her wings. a feather benweath 
my tongue. i trace the indents 
where metal has met bone.
subtle & cyborg, i live on lips
of glass cups & men. throwing stones
in the ever yard. these were once
my fingers. i was once a bird 
& i said to myself, 
"one day i will trace a life
& remove it." bare hands.
the wooden dark. 

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