For me

to unknown space.

IV.

Who are the enemies of process?

I ask, laying down my pink Huffy, walk to the shallow bed where a crawfish lay.

V.

Claw. Unbroken then broken.

Claw. Unbroken then broken.

VI.

In Tennessee I saw a jar.

The jar was my heart.

I was still as any still thing, as still as a painting.

Of a painting, we do not ask it to speak.

Of my longing for Henry.

Ellipses.