Hypervigilance w/ Emily Dickinson

like a gunman              i open every door

searching             through fallen bands of moon light

every coruscated surface             the color of gunmetal

i have been sitting here             at this little table

below your windows             pointing to the sky

for so long             i cannot remember what to do

if it has feathers                do i take aim

i run away                  & assassinate

lungs ripple or billow              it's a fault

this house has so many rooms                look

there is an ocean shore             it laps

the sap of a tongue               over the written-on envelope

the needley pines grown             in the blue shadow

on a bluer wall         if the garden would not plus