& the blood does spit where the body splits. I am sleeping in a room whose walls were once blown away. There is no match to make for absence, but only one to create. Give me proof: say whatever you want, just say it in rage. Memory is an undone space— like the crying room in pineland. I don't express my pain in poems, I express where something was a second ago. I want to unzip everything around me so it falls away— a spool of all the brightness of the world. Find a common ground. Humanize my country. Like a fly in a punchbowl I say enough of this emptied word: empathy. Around the fields, the trees sweat. There is another sound I don't hear. Nothing makes it go off. If you look hard enough, the word faintly reappears with the compass of places. I can do only two things for my love— describe her flight and not add a comma.