Already the body has forgotten itself
in a house with a roof strung in lights
and the back porch with its colony
of lemon balm mint tiny rosebushes
rooted in soil soil in pots
the pots moveable the plants unaware
that the body has become a telegram
ricocheting along the lone thread of wire
its arms have become unseeable
its water-bones, its skin like air
transfiguring itself to weightlessness
to small fractions of sky