I am in for each quiet moment.
A place where the air won’t pass.
A vacuum of feeling.
A place where Heisenberg won’t go:
Into a dream of rats and colored silk.
You whose textures cross
rigid in the specificity of color and remorse.
I am a room. I am red.
We listen to a Serbian man direct
His Serbian film.
We are complete with a hoodie sweater
and brass instruments.