Lebenswelt

Earth. A shot taken from space. Earth that made and fed man. 
Man that shoved Earth down the stairs. Took her picture. Man.

I miss when we talked about the coal burning in Virginia required
when we watch Netflix. Now we call it self-care. And it is. It rains.

All the time it rains. My children, who don’t exist, sleep in the silt
residue of my teapot. This life wrecked me. Describes the color red.

The flash of red on the TV, the trademarked thud of its name. I can’t
buy the idea of God, but a cold hand on my cheek is a whole religion.

Red couch, a mellowing. In every timeline, a red couch with a wound
of orange foam. Me, twirling my left bang in thoughtless ceremony.

We first went to the Moon the same year the military funded the research
that would form the internet. A network of networks of networks.

Earth. A bowl filled with horseshoe crab blood. Copper blue. Wisps
of her agony. Earth and her comment section of awe and conspiracy.