by Seth McKelvey
slipknotted snares drizzling down
from the sky beneath
might the darkness
pierce?
a field of nooses hanging down
like so many fishhooks beneath
a busy pier, bobbing in the dense
afield, waiting
my nooses, waiting
for me
I fashioned these knots with my own
knuckles, fisherman’s fingers
hardened by these schemes
copper snares, wire looted from now
abandoned temples like unspooled veins,
hot worked and drawn
my nooses, waiting
for me
I coil the wire around my
fingers, soul’s electrician,
wrap it around my
neck
the copper begins to glow, incandescent
but not quite bulblike
only the candlescent of my burning aroma
perhaps I underestimated the
current,
or resistance, or both
the filaments ignite, burning
handiwork around my neck
my nooses
