ÖMËGÄ
SELF AS TRANSMISSION FROM THE SPACE AGE ❋ Mitchell King
I lost you in the riot—//maybe the future couldn’t fix
our problem—//—the technicolor lane in the gold millennium—//— I wore rhinestones
and sequins because I was afraid to be naked around you—//—could not handle the light on my
body so I thought to reflect the beauty of your attention back—//— onto yourself —//—
the night
on the holodeck and the mirage of a brief city—//—hearing a
recording
of our own voices like the crystal wasn’t a moment away—//—from breaking—//—is this the poem
you asked me to stop writing? I couldn’t keep it from happening—//— the year we were un-
navigated and the wave that folded into water as soft as ribbon before the crash and
—//—there are many objects that can bring back the dead—//—
in this transmission—//—I am the space between stars—//—
walking through walls as walls are no barrier for
this—//—imaginary body
—//—the lake was overflowing with bodies—//—
the beer on your father’s boat—//—my battery is dying—//—
remember when we lost our names?
—//—one long road with music in your red car—//—my shadow is a man catching up with me—//—
how many baptisms can a lake contain and who is floating in the water?