Karma clusters swim the path electric,
swirling & conspiring to be born alive &
knowing the wanting works against them.
We suffer in the want and in the want
of want. Note our blinking,
flagging down airplanes in mist.
A womb, a whistle flashing rusted silver,
bolted to nothing and needing to be chosen.
Stillness somehow the enemy.
A tragic magic appears in cluster
written by a committee three climates away.
Its effects an elsewhere for its crafters,
theoretical. You should see the white papers.
So, we’re clotheslined. One planet,
one meteor shower. We box snow, crystalline.
Latch as barnacles to the absence of memory.
If only we could show our faces to
the Board of Directors, not versed in the ways
of red oceans that pulse while dying.
Amy Strauss Friedman is the author of the poetry collection The Eggshell Skull Rule (Kelsay Books, 2018), and the chapbook Gathered Bones are Known to Wander (Red Bird Chapbooks, 2016). Her poetry has appeared in Pleiades, Rust + Moth, The Rumpus, PANK, and elsewhere. Amy’s work can be found at amystraussfriedman.com.