Trespass by Thomas Dooley

S EPARATION
    I
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I want to say something
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  about sabotage. How you
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  designed it.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I am scooping dry food
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  to a deaf cat, no longer
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  in our kitchen, the old marble
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  mantle I left
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  vacant,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  remember when greens of spruce
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  brought indoors
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  made us suffer the winter less?

    Â 
    II
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  What hurts
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  the most?     The kept
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  breath? Geese
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  cutting the pond? I came
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  to know
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  in hard Texas heat you found
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  him,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  back east the roads twice salted cracked
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  in places, I played on loop
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  carols of mystery,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  O
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  magnum mysterium , then
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  acute ice,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  and common rain

    Â 
    III
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  The sun on the avenue
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  is bright, veneers
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  of antique chests at the outdoor flea
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  shine like chestnut skins,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  a gray sparkle lifts
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  from costume jewelry.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Knowing you are browsing
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  cheap Swedish furniture
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  makes me feel,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  sturdier?

    Â 
    IV
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I want to solder
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  the fragile things, pour
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  liquid alloy into me or
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  exit metaphor
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  altogether,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  straw is just straw,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  not hair,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  not blond tin,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  it’s dull and dirty, grass
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  is young under straw, breaks
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  capsules, the shredded
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  chaff becomes
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  dirt. I could
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  be these things.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Dirt.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Shredded.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Nothing seems
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  degradable. Memory is still
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  of you—morning, naked, peeling
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  a small orange over
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  a silver bowl.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  My teeth hurt,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  the citrus and the metal.

    Â 
    V
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I try to forget you every day
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  but Lauren and I were discussing
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  superpowers and she said
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  she would like to have super strength,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I thought I’d like teleportation
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  but then thought telepathy—to read
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  your mind—but Lauren said ignorance
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  is bliss, I had to agree. We thought
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Spiderman had it right with scaling walls
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  which made me think of Luc in Aix
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  who climbed building façades for sport,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  often shirtless, Lauren thought
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  that was super strength but I said no it’s more like
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  super attachment and I saw the