in retrograde

here again i name myself an elegy for soft.

the ghosts unstitching their mouths–
impossible inevitable inconsequence.
the remainder. the echo. the wake.

pared to the bone, marrow unraveled;
a web of stars racked to the machine. soft;
you dead dreamweaver. threaded-needle-tongue.

here again this slingshot orbit cups an untouched moon.

claim yourself new. become untouchable. you remember:
this reassembly, this reinvention of choice.

become a fist pressed to the apex.
cut the compass out of your mouth.

soft; unspeak yourself again. you remember:
this funeral sacrament of a stopgap creed,

vacant planet unspun to wire–

clear the airwaves.
close the seams.