"When the sacred is deleted, the body becomes the last archive.”
- Poet
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The gods were deleted and the tribes archived the Vista-View—two bedrooms beige-on-beige a fungal beard colonizing the microwave’s lip You watched the iron bars then the glass then the greenish biometric light the glass drinks the whorls of your thumb a cyan leech labeling the ridges before the neurons arrive early coaxing a instinct to open its eye matter blinking awake in their wake always a beat behind its outline—stubborn delayed—stumbling to catch up A vertebra clicks and the world misfires the locker room’s thick lactating reek wet cement and the chemical musk of Axe Phoenix—a scent so violent it strips the insulation it kicks you back into the teenage animal gristle of your own neck 3:14 a.m. at the Wawa parking lot sodium lamps stutter in saltatory arcs leaking amber data into the asphalt a signal failing to hop the gap unsure which reality they are meant to illuminate You a prisoner You the Ouijaboard the opera is transcribed in unpaid late hours stripped myelin pale lipids drifting like snow the white noise of your own making slowed to an unmarketable frequency The listening that is not a listener does not want your confession it waits for the precise imperceptible asymptomatic instant your respiration falls out of compliance Status: nerve sheath thinning Status: saltatory conduction faltering Status: epineurium issuing final instructions
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