Untitled 1&2

[1]

i erased the map and was simplified. a faint ringing held

in my jaw. even at the rounded part of earth, the sun

shed

hardly any light at all

on what i had to change. i thought: i want tornados in the channel; i want to scale the force that guides us from

the farthest point to farthest point away from one another,

and obey it.  

[2]

how jointly the weathervane spins

sundown

envisioned from the gleaming window then on

across the oval mirror inside the frame:

the tips flicker: now the fade,

now the nocturne

melts

it fused and remelted,

messed up into a memory of sex as an algorithmic keyword,

an uncertain reflection of something metal rotating in a window across the little alley from my larger window,

post-haussman window.

Louise Akers is a poet living in Brooklyn, NY. She earned her MFA from Brown University in May of 2018, and the Rosemary and Keith Waldrop Prize for Innovative Poetry in 2017.