Induction
And to say I can’t
find my breaking point is
to say, when the telephone rings and the cord
gets tangled around my neck, that I’m only just
bored and nervous with my life. And to say
my hands are a sieve trying to hold us together
is to say I have nothing else to touch at night but
the cold bricks beside my bed. Sleep
controls me until my body revolts; but who can say
this finger is broken over this one—either way
I can hold nothing.