"The shadow peels itself off"
Ana Boičević

The shadow peels itself off

the wall and addresses you.


Or you wake up to

a barely-there earthquake. Siren. Echoing against the hills.


Pls. not to make snow my bed.

Not that I’m scared of the congregation—


but the thing behind it: that

black-handled baglady

hanging by nail off


Nope.    In the evening juice

squeeze out 10 lemons


and walk all night.


Empty bowels into the pot

and look for stones.


What here, in the suburbs?

Yeeees grasshopper.


. . . and look under the stones.