BACKYARD
RUSTED–THROUGH FIRE PIT
too many thursdays thin light through the basement blinders chilled
sweat expiring across my carotid outside capillaries of white
picket fences kill themselves as i breathe in out i used to survive
beijing heatwaves & today my father burns cardboard tells me no place to hide
when not even shadow is shadow asks me what i do for respiration? refrigerators
are so yesterday in my dreams dry ice chainsmokes in the garage a temperature high
–est at 2 p.m. i don’t watch tv anymore limbs cold on the bedspread yes no yes again
centralized mechanism involuntary contraction boolean bones & electrified nerves
i wanna circuit my damage to the generator automated breath manufactured cold
the sinusoidality of these lungs collapsing over & over under smothered air
TREE I TREE 2 TREE 3 [struck by lightning]
—Fiona Jin
