No Help for That | Jackie Clark

Eloquent fastenings unspun, fired off onto the flatness
of the landscape. The fond herding gathered strong,

evened-off in inquiry. Piveting bridges constructed long
after there is anywhere to follow. The great curve flecked

with instinct and safeways. I am no longer interested
in any of this, joining eventual semblance with clavicles

prominent only in forlorn stretch. It is warm
inside, blinking and gazing amongst what clams

around our bodies. Of places unseen I imagine
nothing or instead an echoing caveat and then

one chair, empty of body. The rough terra
regional to our destinations marred by fingertips.