Cumulus breaks across a ketchup sky.
I’m my own disjecta membra. Leaving
Was a mode of leave-taking from toppling
Columns of counterfeit selves. The genuine I
Is forever in someone’s tourist brochure.
Wholeness is mobility, thought Orpheus
In his dismemberment. The rancorous
Cries of exiles will make Lethe remember
The anguish of those who never forget.
We must all drown in another’s epithet.