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Dizzy Chain Of Bees
I'm examining your new apartment through grainy cell phone pictures where the backlight ripples through your windows and pixels glisten in your hair. But as these borders grow more rigid with every vague domestic threat-with each inflated obligation-it's the most we can expect. I'm stalled in a haze without you, typing half-drunkenly, emoting in lower cases; unpunctuated fits. I'll circle around your ankles like a dizzy chain of bees to sting the shackles of citizenship. And you still can't leave the country on account of your arrest for knocking down a police officer at a decade-old protest. And so our parcels will clear customs covered in literal red tape. The contents bend though they ship cushioned and anything fragile will break. Chorus. Bold lines etched by old ties and plebiscites. Bold lines denied by thin wires and satellites. Chorus.
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