Returning Quanta: Bodies Sinking Again As They Must

Returning Quanta: Bodies Sinking Again As They Must

Mathilda Cullen

Billboards advertise a new format of skyline

and tell us it’s time to leave. A streetlamp

gives way to smoke, announcing the collapse of 

all our faith in local infrastructure. Gas leak

again. A hawk softly circles over the interstate,

saying that this is the only way to cope.

As I lie awake, the crickets are a clock ticking

toward sunrise. When the birds turn on

we are reminded of what it’s like out here

in the nowadays; the hot bubbling

of horizon and geese. Grounding myself as in

never leaving. Where else to go

but the living room, but the endless strip mall

that is this island. To the end

of dislocation, of the miles of sewage that open

beneath us. Here, in the only house we'll never

own. You know what waits in the woods 

to keep it from us. A country is only 

as large as the cops maintaining it. All

land is stolen. Soon it will return our theft.



Also by Mathilda Cullen

Returning Quanta: Bodies Sinking Again As They Must

Into the Moment Fall Particulates And Outward They Move in Single-File

My Language Drops Like A Snake From the Forked Tongue of Desire

Proceedings of the Show Trials Following the Climate Uprising

Proles who trampled a paragraph

A Name Replaced Like a Name

Another Hauntology