cracker jack came calling
like he said he would
with all of his old deals
trying to box me in with his dreams
what I do when they shake my face with the radiation
trying to penetrate every organ
writing their name into my body
I take the kite straw out of my spine and swing it up over my head
then the box they had me in
contains all of them instead
they’re still inside me
looking for an exit
a parasite with some inkling of its discovery
I put down the paper
and stare into the mirror
as I had been instructed
knowing the device no longer functions
but needing to believe
that someone is listening
there’s a prize in every box
but you won’t be seeing any
he says
like shutting the door of the sky is just something he does on the way out
never mind the blood it’s the aftermath I have to worry about
what comes out with the blood
my spirit:
he thinks he’s loose but he’s never been more contained
but there are still holes along the edges
fixtures of the code
who determines how long I will have
until noticing is not enough
noticing is like starting the stopwatch
only not all runners have been notified
and no gun goes off
I’m running at night
some recordings make it out
and they make it back into me
I’m the subject of recordings
their embodiment
when everything seems normal again
and people’s faces look familiar
and the place I’m in
looks like a place I might live
and the animals are far away
I have to remember that the juice was squeezed out and I put it in my pocket
when cracker jack comes calling
I can take it out
and take a sip
and then I’ll remember how I came to be his
and how my spirit is growing
inside of the stained-sheet antistrophe
racing faster into the heart of the city
no longer wearing any mask
no longer dripping any blood
no longer beholden or sworn
my divine brother
I am a shaman and you are my apprentice
even if you have forgotten everything
you will remember the door you came in
the light running behind you
when I am almost dead you’ll be able to go back