hypnotism: to chamonix

i.

_{bleach blue and dripping, this town}

does not speak but stands, hypnotic.

a dust-winged bus and a ten minute walk

have i been here before?

what elevation gets into your blood like this,

water breaking bubbles, frost in the soil

a language

where we don’t pronounce half the letters. 

ii.

_{on sunday, my knees snap under}

the crippling height

i heave rust out my guts

paint my genetics down a mountain

a stranger grips my shoulders and

tells me that it’s natural.

the train gets a headache french and cornflakes

and a bed under a window we drift under flight,

manifest vending machines and profit and sleep. 

iii.

the peaks speak in dizzy longing

softly

when they know all the humans are asleep. 

iv.

i don’t call anyone.

i witness something sacred and

hold it like an insect in my palm 

v.

_{she says i can get a job here.}

she sends me a link, 

buys me wine in the spiderweb night lights.

and i think of all the homes i am collecting.

and i think of all the wonderful

and terrible

questions i get to answer.

and i think about the clumsy uphill sidewalks

and hungry burning height

and i feel so young that it could unearth me 

deadwater

eye-deep in deadwater

i ungrow,

washed out in

splinters stakes and stutters

peach and prunes and fingers

silent in the twilight, lonely in the night sight

i retract here

retrace clamber

back and back again

there is no one here

to trap inside this birdhouse body

there is no one here to

lie about my life to

what is this,

to miss with such violence

to disappoint atlantis

to sleep in deadwater 

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