A n d r e w J u d s o n S t o u g h t o n —

from [The Sciences]

I was forced at the level of the word
And convinced of something other 
I saw the convivial green of the artist’s deep heart, which had been invented at the moment of
application, and it was like running into you on the street while we lived together 
I love your simple nails
I was forced to count your ear piercings, and ears
Your chapped lips 
There are many
In turns of the attendance, the CVS so cold the breath turns to steam I imagine as a braille
I often try to think of your breath so particularly
When I put my fingers to your mouth, 
If I think small enough,
I can see the formations of the processes of your body
There is something to hold on to, some part of you going out in the world 
I love that world 

I stood in the white wash of framing 
In the catered houses 
And among them 
Their polished, carnate tile 

I stood in the ease of Ronda
My white peace in the itinerary 
I stood in the sun 
I grew worried with disoccupation 

I stood in a bus line 
I stood in the blindness of the light and imagined your visible ribs meant you were dying
Flush against your floral swimsuit 
As you ate potato chips 

I stood in Cádiz and the mosque 
I stood in the docks of all 
I stood in your shadow as you sat curled on the wall overlooking 
The ocean where it no longer happens 

The sign said promotion du jour
I’d deployed across the sweet receipts of information
And I was a term to deploy
The banner said it’s over
It declared Jesus is victory
And a winner in their ochre stalls rich with a pink moniker
A hidden corner of the computer called the Jungle Disk
The co-op mode of the glory
In my sand was a walkman
Twas to ground my bed by gifted copper
The dead don’t glide by: it’s life
My days are the glimmer of your cig free teeth
In the Salvation Army’s Sanctuary
My love, you are like
You are a practice

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